Page 16 of Booked for the Holidays
She’s cheeky as hell, and I love it.
“Coat closet.” She motions to the door just inside her flat before slipping off her boots and walking away. I remove my coat and open the closet door. Inside, I find Juniper’s coats hanging in a neat row, her scent clinging to the fabric—warm, familiar, and impossible to resist. I hang my coat alongside hers and hope that her scent will weave its way into the material.
After closing the closet door, I remove my boots and leave them neatly next to Juniper’s before wandering into her flat.
A plush, floral rug covers the wooden floor of the hallway while a small sage green side table sits beneath a scalloped-edge gold-framed mirror.
The living room is centered around a velvet loveseat in blush and a vintage-style, oriental print area rug in complementing colors. White bookshelves filled with books, as if it’s an extension of her bookstore, along with a few plants, candles, and trinkets. One wall has a framed gallery. Some frames haveart prints, others dried flowers and lyrical quotes. A gold bar cart sits beneath the frames with rose gold glassware and a few bottles of spirits.
A wooden calendar hangs on the wall near her kitchen, shaped like a gingerbread house, with tiny hand-painted doors, each labeled with a glittery number. One is slightly ajar, revealing a packet of hot cocoa and a slip of folded paper.
“What’s this?” I ask, lifting a hand to peek inside.
Before I can, she’s there, slamming it shut. “It’s my advent calendar.”
“You made it?”
“Yes.” She says it like a dare.
Even in her attempt to keep me at arm’s length, I see the pride she has in it.
“And you filled it yourself?”
“Of course. Who else would know what I like?”
Her head tilts upward, giving me the perfect view of her features. The smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks, her warm hazel eyes, and those perfect pink lips.
Who else, indeed.
Our gazes lock for the briefest of moments before she looks away.
She clears her throat, flustered. “Living room, kitchen.” She motions quickly to the strikingly decorated rooms before turning and heading down the hallway. “Bedrooms are this way.”
My gaze returns to the gingerbread house advent calendar.
It’s something she’s poured time into. Something meant to make every day feel like a celebration. I desperately want to know what is behind each door. All of Juniper’s favorite things.
But instead, I grab my luggage and follow her down the hallway. She stops in front of an open door.
“Guest bedroom is here.” She motions across the hall. “Bathroom’s there. It’s the only one.”
My eyes flick to the door next to the guest room. “Yours, I presume?”
Her arms cross against her chest. “Yeah.”
It’s like she’s recalling the last time I was in her room. Her childhood bedroom where I’d reviewed her business plan, kissed her, then panicked.
“I’ll let you get settled.” She turns to reach for the handle on her bedroom door.
“Juniper?”
“What?” she asks, not bothering to turn around.
I want to say it all. Tell her what she doesn’t know, what I’m about to do for us both. But she’s not ready for my whole hand yet. So, I give her a single truth instead.
“That kiss wasn’t a mistake. It was a revelation. That’s why it scared the bloody hell out of me.”
Her back goes rigid. For half a heartbeat I think she might turn and give me something. An opening, a sign. But she doesn’t. Instead, she walks in her bedroom and closes the door.
