Willow fake shivers. “But it’s cold out there.” She picks up her phone, shuts off the music, and tucks it into her back pocket.
“All the more reason to leave sooner rather than later,” Nina says.
Willow shrugs on her puffy vest and pulls a plain black beanie over the top of her head. “Thanks for the coffee and letting us crash your space.”
“Anytime,” I say. “We’ll talk soon.”
Reed holds up his bag of gingerbread bars like a trophy. “Oh, I’ll be back. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Let’s go.” Willow urges him toward the door with two hands pushing on his back, and Nina follows. They call out goodbyes over their shoulders as the cold night air rushes in through the open door.
And then it goes eerily silent, as if a vacuum sucked every sound from the space. I turn toward a table and nod at the last of the decorations and supplies. “I’m gonna get this put away.”
“I’ll help,” he says, already grabbing a stray ornament.
We fall into an easy rhythm, gathering scattered pieces of red velvet, extra lights, unused hooks, and ornaments. Jordan holds the box open while I carefully situate the things inside. When everything’s packed, he follows me to the kitchen without a word. I open the door to a storage closet that’s tucked in the back corner.
“The top shelf?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
He lifts the box effortlessly and slides it into place. I watch him the whole time, taking in his broad shoulders and muscular arms encased in a black hoodie. I may not be able to see the details of his musculature, but I know it’s there. And then there are his hands—those capable hands that can set my body aflame with a casual touch.
Backing away, I spin around and grab the box of pumpkin bars. “All packed up.”
“Oh yeah. I can’t forget these.” One side of his mouth arcs upward. “Thanks, partner.”
I walk him back to the front, and it isn’t until we’re standing by the door that I notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging from a red velvet ribbon—and it’s right above us. I swear it wasn’t there a few minutes ago.
Before I can move or say anything, Jordan looks up and then back at me. There’s a beat of silence between us before he steps closer. My breath catches, a thready sound escaping my lips. Our eyes meet as he leans in, his hand brushing my arm. And just when I think his kiss is inevitable, his warm lips press gently against my forehead.
“I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs, pulling back. He gives me one last glance, then steps out into the night.
Remaining in place, I lift my fingers to the spot where his lips touched my skin. A forehead kiss under the mistletoe. It wasn’t the kiss I expected, but somehow, it was exactly what I needed. It’s another snapshot burned into my memory—soft, fleeting, and somehow just right.
My gaze flicks to Pops, who’s sunk into his recliner, eyes glued to the television.
“I thought we were leaving,” I say, tugging on my boots and tucking my fleece-lined jeans inside.
“You’releaving.I’mstaying here.”
I straighten. “You said we needed a Christmas tree and suggested going to the farm. I left work early specifically for that reason.”
“Yeah, I remember. But my arthritis is acting up, so I asked Jordan to go with you.”
I freeze. “What?”
“He’s got a truck, which saves you from strapping the tree to the roof of your car.”
“Pops, I don’t need a chaperone.”
“I know.” He shrugs. “But he didn’t mind, and said he’d be happy to help out.”
“He’s probably being polite. He has a business to run and doesn’t need you adding to his list of things to do.”
Pops doesn’t reply. A knock at the door cuts through the room, and my stomach dips like I’ve crested the top of a roller coaster.
Great.I haven’t seen Jordan since the mistletoe moment, and I’m not ready for things to be weird… at least not visibly. Internally? I’m a mess.
