Page 66 of Booked for the Holidays
Juniper’s laugh is still echoing in my ears. The sight of her pressed shoulder to shoulder with my brother, that flirty little smirk on her lips, the way she leaned in just to watch me twitch. I’ve been climbing the walls in silence all night.
She’s having fun. Which would be fine, great even, if she weren’t using my own damn brother to get under my skin. Doesn’t she know? She’s already there. Been there for a year now and it’s time for me to show her exactly what she does to me.
Outside her flat, Beck stretches dramatically. “Okay. What’s next? Should we hit the bar? Juni, I bet you’re a good pool player. You’ve got good wrist control.”
Juniper bites back a laugh.
I grip the door to her flat building a little harder than necessary. “Actually,” I say, calmly,toocalmly, “I think you’re going to crash early, Beck.”
He blinks. “What? No way. I’ve got energy for days. We should go out.”
“You should go out,” I tell him pointedly, blocking the doorway. “We’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
His eyes flick from me to Juniper, who has the audacity to be smirking again, then back to me.
Beck raises his hands. “Right. Copy that. Message received. I’ll just…” He gestures vaguely down the street. “Disappear.”
“Excellent choice.”
I open the door, then after ushering Juniper in, slam it behind us.
Silence.
Juniper stands at the foot of the stairs, that smug little smile pulling at her mouth again.
“Subtle.”
I take a slow step toward her. Then another. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t move.
“I’ve spent all night watching you flirt with my brother,” I murmur, voice low. “Letting him whisper in your ear. Letting him make you laugh.”
She shrugs innocently. “I didn’t let him. He’s funny.”
“Oh, he’s dead.”
She tips her head, eyes dancing. “He said you were wound up. Guess he was right.”
I’m in front of her now, hands braced on either side of the railing. “I’m wound up because I’ve spent hours watching the woman I want let someone else pretend to be in my place.”
She blinks up at me, her breath catching when I lean in. But I don’t kiss her. Not yet. I want her dizzy with it. I want her squirming with the awareness that I’m holding back.
“I’ve had to sit across from you all night pretending I didn’t want to drag you out of that chair and kiss you silly in front of everyone.” I press closer, mouth at her ear. “I’m about to make you forget anyone else was ever in the room.”
Her smug expression falters. “You’re not good at subtle.”
“That’s right,” I say, inching closer. “I’m good at showing up late. At not saying what I should’ve said last year. At letting you think I didn’t care when I’ve thought about you every day since.”
Her lips part just slightly, like she’s ready to interrupt, but I don’t let her. Not this time.
“I’m good at screwing things up,” I say, softer now, “but I’m really damn good at learning from my mistakes.”
She crosses her arms—not defensive, just needing something to do with her hands it appears. “What are you saying, Liam?”
My jaw tightens. “Like I told you at the hospital. I was scared.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Of me?”
“Of how much I wanted you. Of what it would mean if I let myself really go there.” I let a breath out slowly, steadying myself. “But I’m not scared now.”
