Page 63 of Mad About Yule

“Nope. There haven’t been a ton of those to begin with.”

Neanderthal that I am, that sends another shock of warmth through my chest. “What about wildly helpful handymen with dashing good looks?”

And there it is—her real smile. I can’t stop staring at those pretty pink lips, so soft and full, like they’re just waiting for me to grow a pair already and kiss her again—kiss her for real.

“There’s only you.”

I might tell myself I want to protect her, but my desire for her now speaks of something else entirely. I’ll leave if she wants me to, but if she wants me to stay…

“Do you want to watch the movie?” she asks.

“Absolutely.”

TWENTY-ONE

HOPE

I could get usedto the caring side Griffin’s shown me these last few days. He went out of his way to help me with the trains. He recognized I’m dead on my feet and fixed dinner for me—I could get in over my head with him.

Maybe I’m already halfway there.

I put on the movie, and we get comfortable on the couch. Nottoocomfortable—I leave space between us but can’t decide if it’s too much or too little. Secluded in my cozy apartment,hanging outisn’t quite as straightforward as it’d seemed in front of the department store.

The movie starts up, with the old-fashioned cars driving through town, eventually zooming in on the children with their noses pressed up against the toy store window. The wonder, the awe, the barely contained joy—that’s what I want for the festival.

“Okay,” Griffin says. “I see the magic you’re going for.”

“See? You’ve got some nostalgia in you, after all.”

He holds up his thumb and index finger a centimeter apart.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” I ask.

“Die Hard.”

I’ve got my hand raised between us before he can get out the second word. “Nope,Die Harddoesn’t count.You can only choose from holiday movies where nobody gets shot in the head.”

“Uh, it absolutely counts.Die Hardis the best Christmas movie there is.”

I am incredulous. I should have expected it, but I’m still incredulous. “Buddy the Elf would disagree.”

“Buddy the Elf would have been the first to go at Nakatomi Plaza.”

He starts to put a foot up on my coffee table but glances over the debris spread across it. Library books, an empty water glass, an old set of oil pencils. He makes a harsh sound in the back of his throat, and I follow his gaze to my ceramic OSU coasters.

“I get the feeling you’re not a Beavers fan,” I say.

“University of Oregon Ducks all the way.”

I make a sour face to match his disappointment. His warm laughter presses a nerve deep in my belly. It might be the best sound I’ve ever heard.

“So you have a disgusting Ducks fetish?” Yeah. If only the word “fetish” hadn’t tumbled out of my mouth, that would be great.

“Something like that.” His eyes are too bright, too intense, too focused on me. “What took you up to Portland after you finished at OSU? You don’t really seem like the city type.”

“You’re saying I’m too small town?”

“Yes.”

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