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My lips turn up, and I play with the hair on the back of his neck. “I think this could’ve happened in the summer.”
Dean nods with a shrug. “Maybe, but I believe there’s something magical in the air that makes it so we all can’t help but accept what comes our way.”
Before I can say another word, the elevator jerks and we’re moving. I go to step away, but Dean holds me tight. Then the door opens and there are three people standing there, looking at the two of us in each other’s arms.
“Well, seems you guys are doing just fine,” an older gentleman says before letting out a low chuckle.
“Yeah, I think we are,” Dean says as he steps back and grabs his jacket from the floor.
For the first time in a long time, I think I am too. It may not have been the way I wanted to spend an hour of my time, but it ended up being the best hour of my life.
He extends his hand, and I take it.
“You two have to kiss,” the older man says, and I finally get a look at him.
He’s a heavy man with a white beard. He looks exactly like . . . Santa. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as though he already knows that’s exactly what we were doing in that elevator.
“What?” I say.
He points to the ceiling right outside of the elevator door. “Mistletoe.”
“Oh.”
“It’s bad luck,” Santa look-alike says. “Plus, it’s the holidays. You never know what can happen if you believe. Do you believe, Holly?”
I look at Dean and smile. “Yeah, I do. It’s really the best time of year.”
Dean grins and presses his lips to mine, reminding me that anything can happen during the holidays if you just have faith.THE ENDBEST CHRISTMAS EVER - SUSAN STOKERPart 1 - The AccidentSienna Bernfield didn’t even have time to scream. One moment she was driving toward Fort Hood Army post, and the next, the world exploded in front of her midsize rental car.
A huge pickup truck ran a red light and broadsided the Honda civic in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and watched in disbelief as the truck pushed the smaller car across the intersection and pinned it against the side of a brick building nearby.
Acting on instinct, Sienna pulled her car over and leaped out. She raced toward the accident, ignoring the bystanders yelling that the person driving the truck was fleeing the scene. Her only concern was whoever was inside the now crumpled car trapped between the truck’s grill and the wall of the building.
As a paramedic back home in Nashville, she knew how important it was to get an injured person help as soon as possible. The “golden hour” was the first sixty minutes after a traumatic injury and was considered the most critical for successful emergency treatment. If the person or persons in the car were hurt, their golden hour had already begun.
The entire passenger side of the car had been smashed in, and Sienna was relieved to find no one sitting there. Christmas music played eerily in the background from a nearby store as she sized up how to get to the driver.
The doors on either side of the car were inaccessible, the passenger side was blocked by the truck, and the driver’s side was butted up against the brick building. The windshield was cracked but not busted out, and there was loose glass all over the trunk from the back window.
The morning had been cool, especially for Texas, and Sienna was wearing a long-sleeve blouse and a jacket. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she climbed up onto the trunk and brushed debris off of the roof, before lying on her belly and peering into the interior of the car through the sunroof.
A man was sitting in the driver’s seat, his head leaning against the brick of the building as the window next to him had shattered upon impact. Sienna could see blood trailing down the side of his face and dripping onto his chest. At first glance, she didn’t see any bones sticking out of his arms or legs, which was good. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have internal or spinal injuries.
The steering wheel was bent downward and the man was obviously pinned inside the vehicle. There was no way he’d be able to get his legs loose, not without mechanical assistance from the jaws of life.
Glad once more for her small five-foot-two size, Sienna wiggled her way through the sunroof until she was crouched on the crumbled seat next to the man. She couldn’t count the amount of times she’d been the one on the ambulance crew to crawl into storm drains, under vehicles, and into other tiny places. She didn’t even thick twice about small spaces anymore.
