Page 9 of Booked for the Holidays
I pull the car into the Jensens’ driveway and drop it into park before turning my attention to her again.
“This is…” I trail off, the words evaporating from my brain before I can get them out.
“What?” She laughs.
Fuck, that laugh of hers is magic. It bubbles up and wraps around my ribs. And for one sharp heartbeat, I want it—her—so badly it terrifies me.
“It’s—we’ve never talked like this before.”
Her face lights up, and I’m wondering what the hell I’m getting myself into.
“It’s fun, right?”
I reach out to finger a shorter piece of hair that has fallen across her face.
My eyes fall to her lips. I don’t mean for them to. It’s that damn tequila eggnog or the whiskey cider, or fuck, maybe it’s justher.
The passenger door opens and at Jasper’s appearance, I drop my hand.
“How’d the liquor run go?” he asks.
“Great!” Juniper gives me a brilliant smile before hopping out of the vehicle. “Gotta get ready. See you later?”
“Yeah,” I answer, though inside I’m suddenly hyperaware of exactly who she is and what that means.
JUNIPER
After my timewith Liam at the liquor store, I’d come home more hopeful than ever. Hopeful that maybe, just maybe, he saw me. Not just as Jasper’s little sister, but as me.
Cassie and I got ready in my room, then came down to help finish setting up for the party.
I’m fussing with the hot cocoa bar when Stella appears beside me in an emerald green dress that looks unfairly gorgeous on her.
She’s one of those women who makes everything look easy. Like she was born with a blow dryer in one hand and a Pinterest board in the other. She’s the creative director at East & Ivy for a reason.
“You look stunning,” she says, pulling me in for a warm hug. I’ve always admired Stella and seeing her with Jasper makes my romance-loving heart do cartwheels. He’s been half in love with her forever. I just hope she doesn’t break him.
“Thanks. You do, too.” I smile.
She glances around. “Do you have a date tonight?”
“No, I’m keeping my options open.” I do my best to sound casual, but my eyes snag on Liam standing across the room talking with a group of neighbors. He looks devastating in a darkgreen quarter-zip sweater and fitted charcoal pants. Relaxed. Confident. Completely out of my league.
He hasn’t looked at me since I came downstairs, and that has me analyzing every second of our interaction at the liquor store. Maybe it was the tequila eggnog making me think he was flirting. Or maybe I’ve spent too much time reading about romance and I can’t identify when a guy is actually flirting with me. But I swear on Jane Austen’s ghost, Liam was flirting with me.
I’m still spiraling when a quiet voice cuts through the noise.
“Hey, Juniper.”
I turn and there he is. Right beside me. His nearness and that low, warm voice settle every flailing thought.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” he says, and we clink our glasses together.
My arm moves on autopilot while my brain scrambles for something—anything—smart to say.
What do you think happens to the Christmas ornaments that don’t get sold each year?
Would you rather fight one reindeer-sized elf or ten elf-sized reindeer?
