Page 73 of Mad About Yule

It’s still a little weird to think the guy who made me want to stab him with a freshly sharpened pencil ten years ago is the man who makes my stomach flutter like it’s filled with seven swans a-swimming today. Well…there are a few similarities left. His ego is fully intact, even though I suspect he’s trying to tone it down. He’s still got some attitude to him, and his blunt criticisms haven’t gone anywhere.

But the man behind all that? The one who steps up to volunteer, who shows up no matter what I ask of him, whose smiles make me feel like I’m Taylor Swift in the middle of a cheering stadium?

My heart’s in danger from that man. It’s got a great big bullseye on it, and Griffin is on a mission to reach it. I just can’t tell yet if he’ll cherish it or smash it to smithereens.

TWENTY-FIVE

HOPE

I parkmy Jeep along the curb, thin clouds stretching across the morning sky out the windshield. I hate to get to the warehouse after Griffin does—Iamthe boss, after all—but I’m running late. My usual routine went on the chopping block this morning down to the bare minimum, and I’m still rolling in thirty minutes behind my normal schedule. My excuse isn’t that great. I’d slept in fitful starts, woken by dreams of one hunky handyman.

I can’t remember flannel ever making an appearance in my dreams before.

In my rear-view, Griffin pulls up behind me. Looks like my dreams have come true. My heart starts going so fast, I start to worry I might have a coronary right here in the driver’s seat. I take a deep breath and climb out of my car into the freezing dawn.

“Morning,” Griffin says. “Here I was thinking I was going to be late.”

“So was I.”

“Rough night?” His saucy glance beneath bunched eyebrows says he has his suspicions about what kept me up.

“I might have tossed and turned. Why? Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“I don’t think I slept all night.” He steps closer. “I was thinking about my special order.”

“Do you have something in mind?”Anything. Anything.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to choose one thing.”

His glorious smolder works its way through my bloodstream, heating me up from inside.

He tones down the sexy look after a minute and takes my hand. “You’re wearing your gloves today.”

He massages my fingers through the thin knit, gently rolling each one until he holds my hand tight. His touch pulses through me like an electric charge. With a greeting like this, who needs caffeine?

All these delightful touches first thing in the morning makes my breath hitch in my throat. Unfortunately, his sidelong glance wakes me out of my daze. He doesn’t need to bethatproud of himself.

“Okay, come on, we have work to do.”

I spin on my heel and move to the warehouse door at double speed, wishing my brain wasn’t short-circuiting over sultry looks and gloved touches.

“I’m all yours, boss.”

Nope, definitely short-circuiting.

We spend the morning working closer together than is probably necessary. In theory, I’m helping him steady the other half of the roof supports as he secures them onto the house walls. In reality, I’m just waiting around for our next kiss break.

He fastens on a corner support and lowers the drill, a smile tugging at his lips. I’ve got those soft, full lips memorized, and want them pressed against mine again at the earliest opportunity.

“You’re shaping up to be a good helper.”

I squint my eyes at him. “How dare you?”

“My mistake,boss.”

His voice drops on the last word, setting off an explosion of glittery confetti in my chest. I’m gearing up to attack him and prove just how good a boss I can be when a voice says, “Well, look at all this.”

Is this what a heart attack feels like? I scramble away from him in an effort to reach my mother. She stands in the middle of the warehouse in her black quilted trench coat, surveying our progress. My stomach sinks as I wonder just how much progress she’s seen. Peeking to where I’d been mooning at Griffin just seconds ago confirms my fears—she’d had a clear view of our coziness for who knows how long before she decided to speak up.

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