Page 40 of Booked for the Holidays
Because it’s not like I need to see him. It’s not like I’m waiting to see him.
It’s not like I’ve been casually glancing toward the door every time I hear the bell jingle—because that would mean I care. And I don’t.
I should be focused on the fact that my hot cocoa burn is puffy and tender, which makes shelving and typing and practically everything I do ache. That should be my biggest concern.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Liam’s first aid skills. The way his cool breath blew across my skin when he treated it. Thefeel of his thigh pressed against mine while he fumbled with theblind date with a bookbows and the way it triggered the memory of us sitting on my bed last year right before I kissed him.
And then, when he found the vintage watch? It’s as if the universe didn’t think I’d been humiliated enough when it comes to Liam Hargrove.
Not only was he up and gone before I woke up, but there was another unsolicited token in my advent calendar this morning. A small, cheesecloth pouch filled with spices. The second I smelled it, I was reminded of Liam and our conversation last year about mulled wine.
The bell above the door rings, and my heart does a traitorous little skip.
Another person that is not Liam enters, so I help them find the monster romance series they’re looking for, then return my focus to reshelving the historical romance section.
I’m wearing the blush hairbow again. Not because Liam liked it, but because I think it’s cute.
I spend the afternoon organizing the back room to make the restock later this week easier for me and Charlotte. During my break, I check my email and notice a new message fromPourChoices.
PourChoices: How’s it going with the interloper?
JuniReads: Funny you should ask. He’s nowhere to be found.
PourChoices: So, you’re having a good day without him?
I want to say everything is great without Liam lurking around the stacks of my bookstore, but it would be a lie.
JuniReads: I keep expecting him to pop up behind a shelf with a smug comment and a pastry. It’s unsettling not being unsettled.
PourChoices: Sounds like you miss him.
JuniReads: I do not miss him…I might miss the pastries.
PourChoices: Pastries and smug comments. That’s a very specific craving.
I snap my laptop shut before I can type something I’ll regret. I’ve already pushed the boundary of the business forum relationship withPourChoices, so I should probably stop sharing silly personal grievances I have with him.
Besides, I need to forget about Liam and focus on what is important. My store. The holidays. Celebrating with my family.
He can do whatever he wants.
I don’t care.
Not at all.
Outside of putting up the tree, decorating gingerbread houses is my favorite holiday tradition.
And in true Jensen family fashion, we make it a big deal.
A loud, over-the-top decorating party that culminates in a vote for the best of the best. With categories including “Most Likely to be Condemned by the HOA,” “Best Use of Candy in a Non-Candy Way,” “Architectural Ambition Award,” and “Best in Snow” which usually goes to the child that drowns their house in five pounds of frosting.
After a hectic day at the store and spending an unacceptable amount of time thinking about Liam even though I absolutely shouldn’t be, I’m desperate for this. Family chaos. Sugar. A chance to reset my scrambled brain.
But as luck would have it, I get caught at the store after hours working on the agenda for the Books & Bubbly event, and by the time I’m juggling the crockpot of mulled wine I made thisafternoon, I don’t even have time to change out of my coffee-stained sweater.
Who cares? It’s just my family. No one there to impress.
I force myself to ignore the mental image of Liam in a towel.
