AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, so you saw it, too? I’m glad it’s not just me side-eyeing her meddling.”
“Meddling? What’s she trying to do, set us up? Doesn’t she know you can’t stand the sight of me?”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, or I’ll eat your part of the chili, too.”
***
I tilted my head back and looked up.
There, right above my head, hanging from the porch, was a giant sprig of mistletoe.
I ran my tongue over my lower lip. I was going to kill my mother. This was not a joke. One of the rules she lived her life by was: If there’s mistletoe, there must be kisses.
This mistletoe was not here this morning. It’d hadn’t been here for the entire holiday season.
No.
This was new mistletoe.
She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact she was trying to set us up.
Well, that was one Christmas present she wasn’t getting this year. She’d have to settle for her cookbook.
The crunch of snow under tires made me turn my head, and I waited as Nicholas pulled up behind my truck in the carport and parked. He’d gotten caught on two red lights—muahahahaha—and was at least three minutes behind me.
Which had given me a moment to find this… this… trap.
Yes.
Trap.
It was a trap.
It was a trap, and I was not going to stand for it.
“What’s wrong?” He shoved the door shut behind him and narrowed his eyes. “What are you staring at?”
I pointed up. “My mother. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Is she stuck in the porch roof?”
“Don’t be stupid. Look at this. It’s a trap. We were right.”
He took the steps two at a time and looked up. “Ah.”
“It wasn’t here this morning.”
“I don’t imagine it was,” he said slowly. “What if I go back down those stairs and come in after you?”
“You can, but it doesn’t solve the problem that there will be at least one bit of mistletoe in every room of this house.” I rubbed my chin. “She usually does this on Christmas Eve. It’s not usually a problem because I don’t have anyone to kiss, so the mistletoe rule doesn’t apply to me.”
“The mistletoe rule?”
“Yes. In this house, if you’re under mistletoe, you have to kiss someone. Every time.”
“That seems excessive.”
“Oh, it is. It is.” I met his gaze. “Someone needs to tell her Cupid is on vacation in December.”
“I don’t think she cares.”
“I should have left her stressed. She’s taking liberties.” I pulled my keys out of my pocket with a huff and shoved the key in the door. “I’m going to have to talk to her.”
“You really hate mistletoe, don’t you?”
“No. I like mistletoe just fine. I just don’t like being under the mistletoe with you.”
“You wound me.”
“Well, I almost kissed you the other night and you pushed me away, so excuse me if I’m feeling salty about that and think you’re the last person I want to be under mistletoe with.” I sniffed and stomped my feet against the porch to get the snow off my boots before I went inside.
Nicholas did the same with a sigh. “Quinn, you know full well why I pushed you away. It wasn’t because I wanted you. You’ve made your position very clear, I respect that, and that’s all there is to it.”
It wasn’t, though. My position was not clear. It wasn’t all there was to it.
My position was very unclear, and there was a hell of a lot more to it.
“Then can you please inform my mother? We might not find ourselves under this shit again.” I batted away a piece that was hanging in the middle of the hallway.
The hallway!
The nerve.
Nicholas stopped it from swinging wildly and stopped before taking off his coat. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, you’ve got no heat or hot water and there’s a hot meal here and—”
“Maybe we’re spending too much time together, Quinn.”
I stopped and looked at him, meeting his gaze. “You think we’re spending too much time together?”
“Maybe,” he said softly. His eyes darkened. “I—” He stopped and ran his hand through his hair. “I think we might be.”
Oh.
“Oh.” I swallowed and looked away. “Well, then, if you’re going to go, at least take some food so you don’t offend my mom.” I turned away and walked into the kitchen.
There was a huge lump in my throat.
Big.
He thought we were spending too much time together.
Why did that sting?
“Quinn, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…”
I grabbed a ladle and laughed, but it was hollow, and it most definitely betrayed the sting I was feeling. “There’s only one way to mean that.”
“No, I—”
“I know I’m grouchy and stressed and probably not the best person to be around at this time of the year,” I said, looking at him and clutching the handle of my ladle. “And we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you came back, but—”
