“Exactly. It’s not like anyone else was going to give me a bonus.”
But I do need money. This gets me moving. It’s probably just the delivery guy with another package from the online shopping spree for decorations that Nina said she went on last night.
Fueled by chocolate and daring, I give myself a pep talk. I’ve done hard things. What some may say are wild things, all in the name of my craft. I’ve lived at a dude ranch, crossed the Atlantic on a ship, and am not afraid of spiders.
I’ve never backed down from a dare. Plus, I need a littleextra cash, even if I will insist on paying Nina back because I consider her generosity a loan. If that means locking lips with a stranger, so be it.
Setting down my empty hot cocoa mug, I tell myself I’m going to kiss the guy outside like my future depends on it. Give him a kiss he’ll never forget. That he’ll be thinking about it for years to come.
I got this.
I march to the door and yank it open with determination. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I reach up, grab the fabric of a dark blue jacket, and press my lips against the stranger’s.
For one suspended moment, the world narrows. All I can think about is the surprising tenderness of his mouth against mine, his fresh, minty scent, and a spark of something I haven’t felt in years.
Then I hear Nina gasp behind me and reality crashes back.
I pull away, mortified, and find myself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes that suddenly widen with recognition. Eyes I know. Eyes that belong to a face that’s matured but is unmistakably familiar.
“Bree Darling?” he says, his asymmetrical smile—slightly higher on the left—spreading slowly across his face.
My mouth parts. “Of course it’s you.” I cover my face with my hands, laughing despite my mortification. “Of course I’d dare-kiss my college nemesis under mistletoe. This is very on-brand for my life. What’s next? I trip and fall into the Christmas tree and have you catch me?”
His laughter mingles with mine. “College nemesis?”
“The guy who teased me mercilessly?” I’m smiling now, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. “You know what? This is perfect. This is exactly the kind of ridiculous meet cute I’dreject in a manuscript for being too unbelievable—and yet here we are.”
“Meet cute?”
“The kiss.” My blush reaches my toes.
He says, “Well, that was a mighty fine holiday welcome.”
My stomach drops as I practically drown in a flood of memories.
Hockey star.
College newspaper.
“I’ll marry you someday.”
The interview that became a campus joke.
“Fletch Turley.” My tone is half whine, half plea for help.
“As if you could forget.” And he’s as cocky as ever.
I’m still reeling from the kiss. From what I did. “I—I thought you were the delivery guy.”
He holds up a small package in his very large hand. “Close. Just dropping this off. It was left at my door by mistake.” His eyes flick upward to the mistletoe, then back to me, and the dimple in his chin deepens as his smile grows. “I’m not complaining about the mix-up.”
Behind me, Nina makes a choking sound that might be suppressed laughter.
“This isn’t—” I stammer. “I didn’t?—”
“Bree never backs down from a bet,” Nina supplies helpfully, appearing at my shoulder.
Fletch’s eyebrow raises. “Still the same Bree, then. Fearless.”
