I could feel the heat of his palms through my sweater, could feel the careful strength in the way he held me steady and secure.
“How’s that?” he grunted, and when I looked down at him, his face was tilted up toward mine. I could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes.
“Good,” I said breathlessly, though ‘good’ didn’t begin to cover the way my heart was racing or the way every rational thought in my head had been replaced by awareness of how perfectly his hands fit at my waist, how easy it would be to lean down and…
“Holly?” He grit out. “The garland?”
Right. The garland. The reason we were doing this. The perfectly innocent festival decoration that definitely did not require me to think about how good Declan’s hands felt on my body, or how much I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, or how I wanted his face buried in my pussy.
“Right, yes, garland,” I said, forcing myself to look up at the rafter and away from Declan’s face. “Hanging garland. Very important garland hanging happening right now.”
I managed to loop the first strand of garland around the appropriate hook, though it took considerably longer than it should have because my hands were shaking slightly from the combination of being lifted and being held and being close enough to Declan to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Next section?” he asked, and there was something in his voice that suggested he was having his own difficulties focusing on the practical aspects of decoration hanging.
“Next section,” I confirmed, though what I was really thinking was that we had at least six more sections of garland to hang, which meant six more opportunities for this kind of close contact, which was either the best or worst thing that could possibly happen to my ability to maintain professional boundaries.
Declan carried me—actually carried me, while I was in his arms, like something out of a romantic movie—to the next hanging spot, and I tried to convince myself that the flutter in my stomach was just from the movement and not from the easy strength in the way he held me.
“Steady?” he asked as he positioned me beneath the next hook.
“Steady,” I lied, because I was the opposite of steady. I was hyperaware, flustered, and completely distracted by his hands.
I reached up to hang the second strand of garland, and something about the angle or the reach made me shift slightly in Declan’s hold. His hands tightened at my waist to keep me secure, pulling me closer against him, and suddenly we were pressed together in a way that made the temperature in the room seem to spike by about twenty degrees.
“Sorry,” I breathed, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for—shifting in his arms, making this more complicated than it needed to be, or wanting to stay exactly where I was instead of focusing on Christmas decorations.
“Don’t apologize,” Declan said, and his voice was definitely rougher now, almost strained. “You’re fine. This is fine.”
But it wasn’t fine, because when I looked down at him again, his eyes were dark and focused on my face with an intensity that had nothing to do with festival planning. And I was staring back at him with what was probably the same expression, caught between the practical necessity of hanging garland and the increasingly impractical desire to forget about garland entirely.
“Holly,” he said quietly, and my name sounded different in his voice than it ever had before.
“Yeah?” I managed, though it came out more like a whisper than actual speech.
“I think...” he started, then stopped, his eyes dropping to my mouth for just a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I think we should probably hang the rest of the garland.”
Right. Because we were hanging decorations, not having whatever moment this was turning into. Except that I didn’t want to hang the rest of the garland. I wanted to stay exactly where I was, with Declan’s hands around me and his face tilted up toward mine and the air between us charged with something that definitely wasn’t professional collaboration.
“Probably,” I agreed, but I didn’t move to reach for the next section of rafter, and Declan didn’t move to carry me to the next hanging spot.
Instead, we stayed exactly where we were, looking at each other in a way that made it clear that we were both thinking about things that had nothing to do with Christmas festivals and everything to do with the fact that we were close enough that if either of us leaned forward just a little...
“Holly,” Declan said again, and this time he did lean forward slightly, and I found myself leaning down toward him, and for one heart-stopping moment I thought we were actually going to kiss right there in the Everdale Falls Community Center surrounded by half-hung Christmas decorations and stepladders and...
“Hello? Is anyone in here?”
The voice echoed across the community center like a gunshot, and Declan dropped me so fast, I nearly landed on my ass. His hands shot out to steady me, but the moment—whatever moment we’d been having—was thoroughly and completely broken.
“Just a minute!” I called out, trying to sound like someone who had definitely been hanging Christmas decorations and not someone who had been about to kiss her festival co-chair in a moment of complete professional abandonment.
“Mayor Williams,” he said quietly, recognizing the voice, and I could hear footsteps approaching across the community center floor.
“Declan, Holly,” the mayor said as he rounded the corner, beaming at us with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested he was delighted to find us there together. “How wonderful to see you two working so hard on the festival preparations.”
“Just hanging some garland,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the stepladder and trying to ignore the way my heart was still racing. “You know, getting an early start on decorations.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Mayor Williams said, looking around at our progress with approval. “And working together so efficiently, I see. Jessica mentioned what a wonderful team you two make.”
