“Because I don’t know.” She lifts her hands in an exasperated gesture. “It feels good to be useful. I like doing things for people and making them happy.”
“You’re one of those people who can’t say no.”
“I can too. I could say it all the time if I wanted. I just choose not to.” She huffs.
“Bullshit.” I bite back a smile. “You should try it sometime. It’s satisfying.”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and makes a surprised sound. She squints. “Is that…?”
She points her glow stick up high, and I make out some sort of foliage hanging on a ribbon or string.
“It’s mistletoe.” She laughs. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.”
“It’s September,” I say disbelievingly. “Who puts mistletoe in an elevator?In September?”
She grins. “That’s the Holly Hill Inn for you. Any excuse for Christmas. And it’s almost October. Wait till you see this place in December. If you have any Santa phobias, stay far, far away.”
Her wide smile draws my attention to her lips, which makes me think about the mistletoe and kissing. Even in her garish dress, Poppy exudes a fresh-faced loveliness, with curly red hair, a wide smile, laughing eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose and wide cheeks.
She must sense the direction of my thoughts because her eyes flicker to my mouth, and she licks her pink lips. I become hyperaware of just how close we’re sitting together. My brain lists all the things that are wrong with this scenario. I’ve just met her. Hell, she’s holding my sleeping daughter in her lap.
But everything else fades as she shifts closer, her breath catching in a small, sharp inhale. Longing shoots through me as slowly, silently, unbidden, we inch toward each other.
What would one kiss hurt? I’ll never see her again. In this tight, warm, hushed space, who would know? Who would care?Besides all those people on social media she could tell.
We’re poised there. Only a breath apart. She smells like berries, and I need to know if she tastes like them as well.
At first, I think the banging is my heart.
But then the voices start.
And I wonder why my conscience has to be so loud.
And I wish it would shut up.
But it won’t be quiet.
The ringing starts.
And the floor starts to move.
“Um, Ronan?” Poppy says.
I freeze and pull away, shocked that I almost kissed a stranger in an elevator with my daughter sleeping next to me. This is why I’ll never win a father of the year award.
She sounds breathless as she says, “I think the doors are about to open.”
And fucking hell. They do.
CHAPTER3
93 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS (STILL)
Poppy
The elevator opens,and I blink like a garden mole emerging from her tunnel. The night manager, a grumpy-looking repairman, and an older couple stare at us in surprise. Which is fair. We’re a motley crew to be trapped in an elevator together. A little girl in a rumpled princess gown, a lady in a prom dress, and an action superstar.
Ronan leaps to his feet in the smooth motion of an athlete and bends to lift Belle from my lap. Belle rouses slightly, opening her eyes before closing them once again. I clamber to my feet after Ronan.
