Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“I totally do.” She passes all of her finds to Brad, who’s also joined us.
“Are we getting all of this?” Brad asks.
“Yep. You’re my Sherpa.”
They both laugh as they move inside to keep shopping, and Willa offers Christian a glass of champagne.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she says and gives me a look that says we need to talk about this STAT.
I wink at her and sip my bubbly, turning to the man himself. He’s in jeans and boots, has a grey ski jacket over his layers to keep him warm, and a grey hat. His face is still a bit stubbled, and I want to reach up and tickle it, but I don’t.
No affection in public.
So far, only people he has actually met and my friends have approached us. I don’t know if anyone else has recognized him, but if they have, they’ve left us alone.
It’s freaking awesome, and as every minute passes, I can feel him start to relax. His broad shoulders have dropped a bit, and he’s quick to smile.
His eyes still shift a little, taking in our surroundings, but he’s paying attention to conversations around us rather than focusing on the crowd.
“Is that the Willa you referenced when you were talking to Max the other day?” he asks.
“Yep.” I watch her make her rounds, offering drinks and advice to her customers. “I’ve known her since we were toddlers. She’s a year older than me, and she and Max were an item all through high school.”
“It’s cool that you’re still friends.”
“There are days I like her better than I do Max,” I say with a laugh. “And, frankly, I never would have chosen between them. There weren’t sides to take, no one did anything wrong necessarily. Except, my brother is stupid.”
“He must have broken it off.” He takes my empty glass and sets it and his on a table that Willa set out just for that.
“He did. He wanted to go away to college and see the world, and for Willa, her world was right here in Cunningham Falls.”
Christian nods. “Shall we stroll?”
“We shall.” We walk down the sidewalk, checking out food being sampled or sold, looking over knickknacks and listening to music. “Thank God you don’t touch me in public.”
His gaze whips down to me. “What? Why?”
“Because knowing you, you’d whisk me into a dance, right here on Main Street in front of most of the people I know, and I can’t dance.”
“You can, too,” he says, shaking his head. “And you don’t know that I’d do that.”
“You’re already tapping your toe and nodding your head. You want to dance.”
A slow smile spreads over that handsome face. “I could dance with you here.”
“Nope.” I laugh and adjust my hat. “You don’t do that in public, so I’m safe.”
Is that hurt in my voice? If it is, it’s ridiculous because I definitely don’t want to dance with him right here and now.
But I’d love it if he held my hand or put his palm on the small of my back.
Or something.
But this is Christian, and he’s careful. And I need to respect that, even if I don’t love it.
“Look at me.”
I comply. The fire roasting chestnuts to our left is reflected in his eyes, over his face. It’s warmer here, and not just because of the flames.
“Hey, you two!”
We’re interrupted by Ed, the owner of Ed’s Diner, and the moment is lost.
“Hi, Ed.” I smile at the older man as he claps Christian on the shoulder. “They let you get away from the food truck for a bit?”
“I don’t actually man it much these days,” he says with a smile. “I have people for that.”
“You let someone else touch your grill?”
“A man has to retire sometime,” he replies with a wink. “How are you two?”
“We’re enjoying the festivities,” Christian replies. “And I have to thank you for that delicious breakfast the other day.”
“You’ll have to visit us again. I promise there won’t be a repeat of last time.” Ed smiles kindly. “You two have a good evening.”
He walks away, and I nudge Christian with my elbow. “Look at you, turning into a local. You know almost as many people here as I do.”
“I think that’s an exaggeration,” he says with a laugh as we continue walking down the street. “But I do like the people here.”
“It’s a nice town,” I agree. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”
“You’re biased,” he says and nudges me now. “But you should be.”
I shrug and glance down at my feet. Suddenly, Christian takes my hand, surprising me, and pulls me to the edge of the sidewalk, pressing my back to a column.
“What are you doing?”
“Look up.”
Mistletoe.
I raise a brow. “Well, look at that.”
He leans in, his eyes trained on my lips. I wet them as he slides one hand to my hip and the other cups my cheek, his thumb circling the apple.