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What a wonderful event.
Her reservations about participating in the whole affair melted as Brennan started to sing. She managed to belt out a few choruses herself. Brennan tugged the flambeau from her fingers to place it in the metal stand.
The last strands of music faded as she noticed the crowd’s attention turn to her.
Why?
She felt movement behind her and turned around. A silly elf held a long stick extended above her head. Mistletoe hung from a string. Directly over her.
“Kiss her, Brennan!” someone called.
Mary Paige shook her head and waved the comment off.
“Yeah, kiss her!” More voices, more laughter.
She glanced at Brennan in a panic. He laughed and waved off the remarks.
“Kiss her!” People began chanting the directive. Clapping started. All were merry. All were bright.
All wereinsane.
Her cheeks were afire with embarrassment. Couldn’t they see she was not the type of girl who got kissed by the Brennan Henrys of the world? She was nothing elegant, beautiful, or—
She felt his arms wind around her waist, cradle her, tilt her back.
“Oh,” she said as Brennan loomed above her.
Her gaze found his, and there was amusement in the gray depths…and maybe something more. Satisfaction?
Maybe.
But she didn’t have time to think any more about it. Because at that moment, Brennan kissed her. And it wasn’t a peck. It was full-blown, wide-open, and absolutely wonderful.
She grabbed hold of him so she wouldn’t fall and kissed him back.
The crowd went nuts.
Her heart exploded.
And in that moment, everything changed.
8
“WHOA,WAITAsec,” Mitzi Cascio, her neighbor and friend, called from across the street as Mary Paige climbed the steps to her duplex, her mind still wrapping itself around the fact she’d kissed Brennan Henry.
Or rather, he’d kissed her.
Either way, her world had tilted and spun a little faster.
“Mary,” Mitzi called with another frantic wave of her hand.
With a longing glance at her front door—she really wanted to put on comfy clothes and process all that had occurred—Mary Paige turned and smiled.
“Oh, my God, why didn’t you tell me? This is huge. Huge!” Mitzi squealed, shuffling forward wearing a ragged-looking sweatshirt and big pink piggy slippers. Her grin was bigger than the St. Bernard at her knee. “Heel, Elvis.”
The dog sat with a groan, and Mitzi pulled Mary Paige into a hug. “You’re rich, bitch!”
Mary Paige broke the hug with a laugh. “Hey, Mitzi. Elvis.”
