It’s been five days since I saved her from the taxi, and with each new piece of information I learn about Holly, the more I fall in love with her. We’ve been on countless dates, some ending with heated moments that we barely broke apart from, and some ending with her rushing back to work. This is the first time we’ve spent the day laid up on her couch watching movies. We’re on our third one of these Hallmark movies, and I’m pretty sure Chester is one movie away from taking out my eye. Holly told me about their tradition of sharing cookies together, and I was more than willing not to get in the way. Apparently, he also didn’t like that I took his spot on the couch.
Holly clears her throat as she pulls her legs back underneath her. “I’ve got a tiny confession to make. It’s nothing too serious. I mean…it’s serious to me. But you have to promise not to laugh at me. I’m slightly concerned about how you’ll react after how you…” She hooks her thumb towards the screen. “You know reacted to those movies.”
I lean over towards her, grabbing her hands with mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Holly, there’s nothing you can say that will ever make me laugh at you…well, maybe there’s something…”
She reaches over and smacks me with her gingerbread pillow. “Hey now!”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! It’s a possibility with all your rambling that I might laugh. But seriously, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
Her laughter subsides as she shakes out her hands. “Okay, so ever since I was a little girl and my ma first introduced me to Hallmark Christmas movies, I’ve dreamed of being a screenwriter for them. Specifically, their Christmas department.”
“Why would I laugh at that?” I turn towards her, laying my arm along the back of the couch as I run my fingers around one of her curls.
Her cheeks flushed, a rosy hue spreading across them. “Because you hated the movies.” She mumbles it, trembling as she waits for his response.
My other hand reaches over, hooking a thumb under her chin. “I can hate those movies and still support your dream. I don’t need to love something to love it for you.”
She nods slightly. “There’s something else.” Before I know whats happening, she leaps off the couch, and bounds over to her dining room table where a thick manila envelope is sitting. She grips it in both of her hands, seeming to contemplate something before she nods curtly and walks back over to the couch.
She holds it out for me before she sits down. “What is this?” I ask as the envelope crinkles in my hands. Something hard and heavy inside it.
“Just open it.” She says as she grabs her hot cocoa, focusing all her attention on it. I can feel the fear coursing through her veins. What has her so worried?
I open the flap and find a spiral-bound book inside. I pull it out and read the black font across the front.
The Christmas PrinceBy Holly Winters
“Holly, is this your own Christmas romance?”
She takes a long swig of her hot cocoa before she looks over at me. She won’t meet my eyes, and I can’t stand it. I scoot closer to her until she has no choice but to look up at me.
“Don’t be ashamed. This is wonderful! I can’t wait to read it.”
She gasps, grabs the book, and clings to it as if it’s her life vest and she doesn’t want to sink. I reach over and grip the corner of the book as I hook an eyebrow up.
Her shoulders slump, and she releases her hold. “Fine, you can read it. But if you laugh evenonce, that’s it! I’m never letting you read another.”
“Fair enough.” I cross my finger over my heart. “I solemnly swear I’ll never laugh at what you wrote unless that is the intended response to what is written.”
It doesn’t take me long to see the similarities in our very own story woven into this one in a way that only we would know it’s our story. Granted, she’s missing some key details, like me being a reindeer shifter and all that, but it has our meet-cute and some very graphic descriptions of how she looked at me that first day. It is possible that she dramatized it for the story.
I read through the first date and that moment on the steps. The one I stepped back from and walked away. How she just wished that I’d push her up against the front door, grinding into her until she was a mewling mess. She’d fumbled for her keys as I kissed along her neck and we stumbled our way up the stairs, kissing, and feeling all over each other’s bodies.
My eyes slowly lift from the paper to find Holly nervously biting at her lower lip as she clutches the blanket to her chest as if it might shield her from what I’ll say.
I put the manuscript down on the coffee table as my pulse thrums in my ears. I might have been able to discard the descriptions of me, but her thoughts on what she wanted me to do that first night? Yeah, I’m not going to get those images out of my head.
“Berry,” I say slowly, the sound rumbling from deep within me.
“Yes?” she squeaks as she pulls the blanket up to her nose, sinking further into the couch.
“Did you write all the things you wished had happened on that first night?” My hand runs up her blanket-covered thigh, grabbing the blanket, and tugging gently.
Her eyes widen as panic flares through her. “It’s nothing. I wrote about the feelings of the characters. Not at all what I was thinking.”
I watch in fascination as her cheeks bloom the same color as the fruit I named her after. Oh, she definitely wanted those things to happen. She just doesn’t have the confidence to speak them aloud. I lean closer, putting one hand on the armrest next to her, leaning over her as I continue to pull on the blanket. Her eyes are round as she looks up at me, and I can feel the combination of excitement and fear coursing through her. Such an intriguing reaction to what I’m doing.
“Has my tart little berry been dreaming about me touching her, hmm?” I ask with a final yank of her blanket, snatching it from her hands, and discarding it to the living room floor.
