Page 73
Bzzt.
My pulse kicked up like a skittish animal, and my eyes slid in slow-motion to Josh across the room, snagging on the shape of a half-smile.
J: Can I get a hug, too? xx
He rested his chin on his palm, thumb deliberately swiping over his lower lip and drawing my attention like a magnet. I swallowed hard and whipped back around.
“—like a mule! It was always ‘Liam, get this’ or ‘Liam, do that.’ I swear, I need a holiday to recover from this one.”
Another corner of a biscuit was gone, and a neat, polished waitress shuffled by, bringing another plateful and with it, the alluring scent of vanilla and something nutty.
I focused on that and not on the blush creeping down my neck, standing out stark against the pale white sweater. My fingers found the pendant, and I told myself I fiddled with it because it was new, not because I was flustered or anything.
J: You okay, Mia? You look a little feverish from here…
Damn him!
I cast around for something to say, rubbing the back of my neck and shifting in my seat.
“Wait, you, in the kitchen?”
He snorted, abandoned all pretence of subtlety, and grabbed a whole biscuit, drawing a fond chuckle out of me.
“It’s not a pretty sight, Mia. The flour attacked me!”
He gestured animatedly, blue eyes glittering as he reenacted a dramatic scene starring him, an overexcited dog, and a bag of flour that attempted assassination.
“You poor thing.” I wiped off a stray tear of laughter.
He chewed on a big bite before gesturing with a teaspoon.
“And the worst part? All that work and the scones turned out… floopy.” He made a deflating gesture with his hands, shook his head, and reached out for his phone.
I peeked down at mine to see another text.
J: Should I come check your temperature? xx
A strangled whimper caught in my throat. His answering chuckle brushed my ears from across the room. I tugged at the collar of my sweater, skin two sizes too small, and tried to deescalate, much like one would go about defusing a bomb.
M: I’m fine! No need for your expertise, doctor. Thank you
I surreptitiously glanced over, biting the inside of my cheek and wishing I hadn’t pressed send, because the grin he speared me was nothing short of wolfish. The phone vibrated against my thigh, and I sucked in a sharp breath before checking.
My stomach bottomed out.
J: Don’t call me that. Turns me on x
The phone landed face down on the small round table just in time for Liam to lean in, grinning, mercifully oblivious my skin was about to catch fire.
He prattled on as he showed me pictures of the Austrian village he’d stayed at with his family: timbered cottages out of a Christmas movie, laden with wreaths of evergreen and little lights, cobbled streets thick with snow, and pine trees standing proud all around.
We were halfway through his story about the tree lighting ceremony he hadn’t understood a word of, when a hand clamped on his shoulder and a familiar whiff of sandalwood and pine reached my nose, making my mouth go dry.
“Not cool, Mia. You stealing my friend now?” He hummed as if in thought, but the way his eyes slid to me and glimmered was something else entirely.
Liam barked out a laugh, straightened up, and pulled him into a half-hug, which allowed Josh the opportunity to wink at me over his shoulder, making me nearly upend the mug of tea.
The warm cinnamon-spiced Earl Grey—a holiday special—clung to my tongue, grounding me, though my insides had turned molten.
