Page 69 of Mad About Yule

He brings the snow closer, and I’m practically burrowing against him, preparing myself for the icy shock. He flicks a few flakes at me, the pinpricks of cold fanning over my face and neck. Before the rest reaches me, he drops the snow and shakes out his hand, then slides it back around me. He nuzzles against my neck and I wish I could say I didn’t sigh, but I’m a weak, weak woman.

“Maybe we can work out some kind of a truce.”

His voice is practically a purr. That’s not normal. Neither is the dizzying dance my insides are doing in his honor. I’m about to ask a question that will surely lead to even worse trouble than this snowball fight, when Cherie comes out onto her front porch.

I fly out of Griffin’s arms so fast, I slide on the slushy street. My heart thunders in my chest, and my face immediately flushes with heat. I throw on my best innocent smile and wave, like that will prove how normal and not-flirty things are out here.

“I forgot about the power cords!” Cherie holds black cables over her head. “You won’t get very far without these.”

“Thank you.” I take them from her when she reaches the sidewalk. “I wouldn’t have thought of them until we set everything up. I really appreciate it.”

She nods. “You’re welcome. Bye now.”

I stand perfectly still as she heads back up the walk to her house. If she saw all the heated snuggling and unnecessary carrying going on between Griffin and me, she didn’t make it obvious. Still, I can’t help picturing her going straight to her phone to call up the Sunshine gossip crew and describe our moment in excruciating detail.

I spin to face Griffin, brandishing the cords. I try to look like someone who’s capable of being in charge of a Christmas festival and couldn’t possibly flirt with a volunteer, just in case Cherie’s watching us out her window. “We would have been sad without these.”

“That must be where the missing weight went. Do you need help lifting them?” He holds his hands out as though I need him to spot me.

I toss them his way, and he catches them easily. I’m still thinking about the potential terms of the truce he offered a few minutes ago, but the moment for asking is gone. He drives us back to the warehouse, and I dream of a world with fewer interruptions.

TWENTY-THREE

GRIFFIN

Obsessing is not my MO.

I can get single-minded, but usually over plans and goals, not a woman I’m fast realizing might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

But here I am. Obsessed.

Streetlights glow in the deepening dusk as I walk up Maple Street, looking in windows. I’ve clocked out for the night and locked up the warehouse, satisfied with another completed Winter Wonderland piece.

Hope had left late in the afternoon, and I already itch to see her again a few hours later. In the last twenty-four hours, I guess I’ve gone about seven minutes without thinking about her. Sleep doesn’t even count, because she visits me in my dreams, too.

Wearing bright orange OSU gear, which kills whatever sexy mood the dream might have otherwise taken.

My breath puffs vapor as I pass shops. Up ahead, next to the bakery, a small storefront painted bright red with a golden yellow door calls to me. The Painted Daisy. Wouldn’t take a genius to figure I’d wind up here on my walk.

I look in the window, my face aching from the cold. Hope moves around inside the little shop, checking stock and adjusting items. With the store empty, she should be sitting down at least, but she keeps making needless checks like it’s physically impossible for her to stand still. Always on top of things, always making improvements. A stupid smile splits my face.

I let myself through the door. She turns at the sound of the bells tinkling on the handle, and her warm smile banishes the cold that followed me inside.

“This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you in here.” She comes closer until she stands toe to toe with me.

“Was I not supposed to leave the warehouse?”

“You know what I mean.” She makes a show of looking around the store. “It’s awfully frilly in here.”

She isn’t kidding. From shiny jewelry to floral bags and T-shirts with actual frills on them, the place gives off a distinct vibe. Whimsical and cozy, it feels more like she’s invited me into a busy, stylish home than a store. Reminds me a lot of her apartment, actually.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

“See for yourself.” She gestures at the short rows of shelves. I could take inventory of the whole place from right here.

“Show me.” My chest tightens. She might put on her sassy cap and tell me to use my eyes, but a smile curls along her mouth.

“If you like.”

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