“Thank you.”
I nod and turn back to the tree, doing my best to focus while I know his eyes are on me. But the emotions I feel pulsating off him are not helping me concentrate in the least. It feels like I’m reading a book of Where’s Waldo? in which the stakes are the highest they’ve ever been because the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen is beside me, distracting me with his presence.
I can’t help but notice how he’s changed over the years. He has more age lines, and there’s a hint of silver coming in on the sides of his hair. His nose is slightly crooked, but it somehow makes him more endearing. I wonder if his full smile would still make me smile too . . .
Lifting my eyes toward the star at the top of the tree, I finally catch sight of the picture in question and stop in my tracks. Gladys captured Jace all right, but this photo was taken in the boxing studio, and his arms look like they were chiseled from stone. His physique is on full display due to the loose tank top he’s wearing in the image. And there are tattoos that I didn’t know existed lining the edges of his shoulders and trailing over part of his collarbone.
Given our brief acquaintance, I’ve never seen him like this. In fact, I’ve never seen him outside of a winter setting. I’ve never had the privilege of appreciating the work of art that Jace is. In the photo, his boxing gloves are mid-flight toward a punching bag. The ends of his hair hover over his head, their tips caught in the motion and force of his movement.
I grab the frame quickly, trying to make sure he doesn’t notice how I just attempted to memorize each detail. If I were granted one wish in this moment, a photographic memory would’ve been it. Still, I retained enough of it to add weight to the feelings that were already aimed at him.
Holding out my hand, I offer the frame to him, and I hold back a shiver when he brushes his palm against the back of my hand before he takes the photo from me. The contact was so quick, but the phantom feeling of his touch lingers. We stare at each other, and to my surprise, he hitches his head to the left, and I take it as an indicator for us to move toward the main space together. I find myself nodding back, a small smile escaping my lips.
His knowing smile matches mine, and we fall into step with each other. As we emerge from around the Christmas tree, Grey catches sight of us first, and her eyes fill with a warm and encouraging light. Sparrow and Lily have arrived at Town Hall, and their eyes widen slightly. They are standing next to Rafe and Graham, who are laughing as they talk. Ever the vocal one, Lily lets out a little “Whoop!” Her shoulders do a little shimmy as her ponytail whips about, and I want to laugh at her antics. I’m leading Jace toward the corner, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else, when suddenly, Gladys appears beside me.
“Wait, darlin’!” she yells, and I’m not sure if she’s referring to me or Jace.
He catches my gaze. We stare at each other for some unknown reason, and I swallow, my mouth suddenly drier than Aunt Sophie’s Christmas fruitcake.
Gladys is wearing a positively conniving grin. Slowly, she moves one of her hands up near her face and points to the ceiling above us. And that’s when my life freezes. Instantly, I believe in the ability to stop time, and it turns out that Gladys is the mastermind behind it.
As slow as the molasses used for gingerbread cookies, I look up, up, up until my eyes catch on the wooden beam above us. To my horror, a sprig of mistletoe hangs from it. We walked rightinto this trap; we’re now standing directly under it, and we’re about to have to answer to the whole town.
Gladys focuses all her attention on Jace. “C’mon, you tattooed giant. A good kiss could make sure that frown doesn’t permanently mark your face.” She waves her hands toward us. “Well, kids, get to it.” She’s positively beaming.
I take it back. If I had one wish, I’d ask to melt into the floor and disappear. I spot my parents in the corner. My best friends are frozen nearby, waiting for my distress signal. I’m pretty sure the elementary school teacher I had for two years in a row after she got transferred to the next grade at the same time I did is also present. This can’t be happening.
Of all the times I’ve heard it said that mistletoe is romantic, no one was referring to this scenario. I’m sure of it. Because it’s not romantic at all to wonder if the man next to you is going to combust from frustration or embarrassment. Maybe it’ll be from both simultaneously.
A growl escapes from Jace’s mouth. An actual growl. I think I misheard it, but then . . . nope, there it is again. Softer but still as attractive as the first growl, perhaps because it’s so intentionally controlled. The picture clutched in his hands is bent beyond recognition. A corner of it has fallen to the floor.
I pull my lips inward to hide my smile as the face-off between him and Gladys heats up. She leans in, kindly lowering her voice so it’s for our ears only.
“C’mon, you’ve both been dancing”—she gives me a wink—“around it. I’ve known Ivy her whole life; she doesn’t want to mess this up. And you, sir, have been pushing people away ever since you got to town. Not sure why. But here’s another chance to make a move.” She looks at Jace.
Desperately, I lean closer to Gladys, not daring to look at Jace. She’s right about me, at least. After Jace’s explanation of what happened to his sister, it feels like the theater curtain islifting between us. But what if I let him in and only end up as the understudy for his next partner? Yet, I’m also terrified not to try. “You’ve gotta take hold of love, dears.” Gladys gives me a wink and then directs her gaze to Jace again. He rolls his shoulders beside me. “Well,” she taunts loudly enough for the whole room to hear, “are you going to kiss her? Or do I have to label you a coward?”
The silence screams to be heard.
My mouth hangs open. There have been moments when I’ve wished to kiss the mountain of a man beside me again, but I never imagined it would end (or start) like this. My brain whirls with a thousand conflicting thoughts. I almost don’t want it to happen in this way, because if he doesn’t want it, that would be more haunting to me than if he did and still walked away.
Slowly, Jace looks at me. “May I touch you?” He grits out the words, the low timbre of his voice causing a chill to run down my spine.
I nod, unable to say a word. And then one of Jace’s arms wraps around my waist, roughly yet somehow politely, pulling me closer. Willingly, I lean in, and in my peripheral vision, I see the moment Lily’s and Sparrow’s mouths drop open. Grey pumps the air in a silent cheer. I know she reads way too many romance books for her to miss the allure of his possessive touch. And yet, I feel completely safe. There’s no part of me that thinks Jace would intentionally hurt me. Somehow, that makes tears hover at the edges of my eyes. In a surprising contradiction to his standoffishness, he’s suddenly holding me like I matter to him. It’s so different from anyone who’s tried to hold me in the past.
I dare a glance up at him, my heart picking up speed when it catches on the part of his neck peeking out from his peacoat, the inky tattoo on the tan skin of his hand moving through his hair, and his curls bouncing slightly around his head as he lifts his chin toward the sprig of mistletoe above us.
Staring at Gladys, he reaches with his free hand and snaps the whole piece of mistletoe off the wooden beam. I wince at the sound, though Jace hasn’t ruined the clipped plant at all. The nail that was once in the ceiling, however, now hangs limply on the ribbon. Because, of course, he removed the entire thing with one hand and a single try. I’m hit with a sudden empty feeling as he releases my waist to yank out the nail. Jace motions toward Edgar, who takes the ribbon with a look that is both confused and slightly elated.
I think he’s going to step away, but not five seconds later, Jace’s hand grips mine. Its pressure is gentle and warm, wrapping around my smaller palm like a scene in Beauty and the Beast when Belle’s hand is in Beast’s paw.
It’s unexpected.
It’s shocking.
And I love it.
“Listen closely,” Jace says, his tone lethally stern, as he leans toward Gladys and ignores the stares of the crowd around us. “No one will force Ivy to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Understood?”
