Page 76 of Mistletoe All the Way

We’re opposites in some ways, but we’re both trying to make our way in the world, to prove to our families who we really are, what we believe in. That’s something we share. Well, that and a penchant for winning. Perhaps that’s why I feel closer to her today. I’m starting to see more connections between us. And also I just want to see them.

But as much I want to spend the whole day crouching here, I know we can’t. Reluctantly, I stand, offering her a hand. She takes mine and rises too, and I don’t want to let go.

I really don’t.

Maybe she doesn’t want me to, since she doesn’t untangle her fingers from mine. She lets me hold hers as I slap on a smile and say, “Everyone’s least-favorite dessert right here.”

She snickers.

“Use them for a paperweight,” I say.

She fights off a smile.

“Doubles as a doorstopper,” I add.

She drops her face, covering her mouth. “Noah,” she warns as she chuckles.

Like hell I’m going to stop. Making her laugh is worth every second of shouting in public. Of putting myself out there.

“You can even get a couple and make your own step stool!” I call to the people hustling their way through the market.

As laughter bursts from her, a middle-aged man with a shiny bald brown head strides to the booth. “I’ve been looking for a gag gift,” the man says.

“This will definitely make you gag,” I say.

“I’ll take five for the office party then,” he says.

“Perfect. I’ll put them in a bag for you,” Eloise says.

When he walks away, she turns to me with a Well done smile shifting her lips. “I’m impressed.”

“Good,” I say, and the way she looks at me, with pride in those pretty eyes, makes the fruitcake worthwhile.

With him gone, I put on my selling smile and do my best fruitcake pitch as Eloise straightens up the booth some more. She bumps into me as she reaches for a bag near my head.

“Sorry,” she says, lowering her hand, but it slides down my arm.

I catch her wrist. I shouldn’t touch her like this. I know I shouldn’t. And yet I roam my hand along her skin. “This booth is so small,” I say quietly.

“It is,” she says with a shudder as I stroke her wrist.

Her eyes float closed, and I don’t care if we sell any more bricks. I care about stealing moment after moment with this woman who saw something in me no one else did. Who believed I could do something hard. Who’s chasing the same wish I am—to do something others don’t think she can. To do what matters to her.

I slide my thumb along her wrist, then—fuck it. I lean in close and whisper, “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth. I should, but I just can’t. And when I’m trying to sell fruitcakes the rest of the day, I’ll be thinking about the way you felt under the mistletoe.”

She whimpers—an unbidden sound full of a longing that matches mine. She grips the counter like she needs it to hold her up.

Satisfied, I turn around and smile. “Get your Christmas bricks here.”

We sell a few more fruitcakes. I’m pretty sure every purchase is ironic. By the time the day winds down, the writing’s on the wall. Even with my “unconventional uses for fruitcakes” pitch, there’s no way we’re winning. I’m just hoping Sebastian used those bookseller skills to sell out of cards, or that Henry used his seventy-five years of swagger to hit a record for cashews, walnuts, or almonds—especially since I’ve learned it’s Eloise’s vibrant grandmother who’s been helping him.

But as the sun dips and Stephen grins from his wreath booth a hundred feet away—swiping yet another credit card—I’m pretty sure the enemy is winning. His wooden stall is empty. Sold the hell out.

When the selling officially wraps and totals are reported to Lucy and Rima, the mayor strides to the front of the market and rubs her mittened palms together. “This one is easy. The winner is simply determined by who sold the most. But don’t be fooled by numbers—we all know it takes a lot of Christmas spirit to sell the most goods. And that’s what matters most.”

“It sure does,” my gramps calls out in solidarity. Ah, hell. He’s there with Grams near the front of the crowd. They’re waiting on pins and needles for the announcement.

“In third place, for selling Christmas cards, is Sebastian,” the mayor begins.