Holden winced.
“I know. The name’s awful. I’m working on it.” She surveyed the table littered with festive greenery, ribbons, and glitter. “I stopped by Trinity’s floral shop yesterday to work on some holiday arrangements, and it gave me an idea. She’d said something about mistletoe being sweet. Or at least the use for it being sweet. That got me thinking of sweets, which got me thinking of sugar.” She glanced toward a container on the table filled with the stuff. “And I wondered to myself, maybe sugared mistletoe could be a thing? You know, like flocked Christmas trees?”
If he followed along, his face didn’t convey it. Holden’s look was as empty as a recently raided Christmas cookie jar.
“I thought I could make a quick prototype,” she carried on. “My dad had some spray adhesive in the garage and my mom had sugar in the cupboard.”
“And now you’ve got a sugar-covered, artificial mistletoe sprig glued to your fingers.”
“Bingo.” She waved her hand in the air, which just so happened to be directly at eye level. Lightning fast, she yanked it back down.
Holden angled back coolly in his chair, ankles crossing. “You know? I’ve never had a woman so boldly dangle mistletoe in front of me like this. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t want to kiss you!” She tugged on the fake greenery, her skin burning as the glue pulled taut.
“You sure about that?”
She would not answer that. “I need to get this unglued.” Beforeshecame unglued.
“What have you tried so far?” He pressed back toward the table, elbows perched on the ledge, suddenly interested in helping her.
“Other than praying? Nothing.”
“You haven’t run it under hot water?”
“Seeing that the power is out and our hot water heater isn’t working, I haven’t.”
“Right.” He thumbed his chin. “Good point. What about lemon juice? I’ve heard that works. Do you have any lemons lying around?”
“Sadly, no lemons.” She was just going to have to come to terms with the fact that she was Snowdrift Summit’s holiday version of Edward Scissorhands.
“We need to get these mistlefingers off of you,” Holden deadpanned.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I tried to make a joke, but evidently, it didn’t translate. But you get it, right?” His brows shot clear into his hairline and a mischievous grin lifted his cheeks. “Mistlefingers? Like mistletoe?”
“Holden, that is even worse than Mistlefaux. And that’s saying a lot.”
“I hear you. And this isn’t really a joking matter.” He feigned seriousness and forced a neutral expression. “I think this needs to go in our Search and Rescue training book. Right up there with how to tourniquet an artery in the field.”
Rachel gave a maddened look. “Ha,ha.” She punctuated each word. “What did you come by for again?”
“To check on you and make sure everything was okay,” he answered in a rush. “And as it turns out, it’s a good thing I did. Looks like you could really use my help.”
“Right, if jokes and witty banter were super-glue solvent.”
He bristled. “I’m sorry. I really do want to help. What about vegetable oil? The oil might work to loosen the glue. It’s worth a try.”
Honestly, she’d try just about anything. That stupid piece of mistletoe was a glaring reminder of their almost-kiss from the night before. A leafy, sugar-covered elephant in the room.
“Where might I find vegetable oil?” He was already on his feet, moving about the kitchen.
“First cabinet to the left of the fridge. Top shelf.”
She would have to climb onto the counter in order to reach the bottle, a feat made infinitely more difficult one-handed. Holden didn’t even have to stretch. His tall stature and long arms made quick work of pulling the bottle down easily. He spun the nearby paper towel holder and tore off a few sheets.
“Okay, let’s take a look at the damage.” Dragging a chair closer to Rachel’s, he flipped it around and straddled the seat. “How long have you had these magical powers?”
