“See that guy over there? Tall. Blond hair and chiseled jaw?”
I groan, unable to stop it from escaping my lips. “Did you seriously just say chiseled jaw? Have you been reading those smutty romance books again?”
“Quinn, hush.” The peaks of her cheeks redden with a flush, and I smirk. “It’s true, just look at him. He’s the definition of chiseled. That’s my new neighbor Amelia’s grandson, Brent. Isn’t he handsome?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no, absolutely not. Mom, you are not setting me up with anyone, ever. Especially not your neighbor’s grandson!”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Well, you should at least think about it. You could invite him to dinner tomorrow. Owen invited Parker, and your dad will be coming with his new wife.”
Surprisingly, I don’t hear the usual thinly-veiled disgust in her mention of my father.
But that means that I don’t even get a few days of preparation before we’re all thrown together and expected to play nice. My dad’s wife is only ten years older than me, and needless to say, I think she probably has more in common with me than with him. Not that I really know anything about her. I only met her once, the night of their wedding.
Following my mom’s line of sight, I see the man she’s talking about standing across the room with Amelia on his arm. She’s not wrong…he is handsome, but regardless, I’m not interested.
I’m here for a week, and my life is not some cliché Hallmark movie, where the corporate girl falls for the sweet, small-town guy when she comes home for Christmas to save the family business or some other contrived festive nonsense.
Nope. Absolutely not happening.
The sooner the holidays can be over and I’m on a plane back to New York, the better.
“I’m just saying, Quinn. You spend too much time working. How will you ever settle down and have a family, if you’re always working?” Mom reaches out to affectionately swipe her thumb along my cheek.
“Something tells me that I’ll figure it out, Mom. If that’s even what I decide I want. But I don’t want you or Amelia matchmaking for me, okay? Please.”
Finally, she sighs, nodding. “Fine. But dinner is still on. Sorry, sweets.”
“Fantastic.”
I take a hefty swig of the eggnog and play the part of dutiful daughter, making my way around the room and saying hello to our guests. Before I know it, the crowd has started to disperse, and not a moment too soon since my feet are aching from my new, unbroken-in Louboutins. I walk out of the dining room and into the kitchen, using the doorway to lean on as I pop the heel from my foot.
“Ugh,” I moan the moment I can wiggle my freshly-painted toes freely, even though they ache with the movement.
Thank God the party is pretty much over. I’m all ‘people’d’ out for the night. Actually, for the rest of the year. I’ll try again next year.
“I think you lost five inches from those heels.”
When I look up, I see Parker has snuck up on me yet again, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, a wry grin on his lips.
“Yeah, well, I was about to lose a toe if I kept those things on any longer,” I mutter, sliding the other heel off. “I should’ve known not to wear heels that haven’t been broken in, but I couldn’t resist. Did you enjoy the party?”
Parker nods and reaches up, loosening the bright red tie around his neck so that it hangs open. “I did. I love a good party, especially when it’s Christmas…”
Only then do I notice the Santa hat shaped cufflinks on his shirt, and I shake my head. “I swear, you are the most Christmas cheer person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you do it. Thinking about the next week is enough to make my stomach hurt, let alone be excited.”
“That’s because you’re obviously the female equivalent of Scrooge, Quinny.”
My eyes roll at his teasing, but then I notice what’s above us.
Parker notices I’m staring up and his eyes drift to the green leafy plant with red berries directly over our heads.
Wonderful. Could this be any more cliché? In fact, it might possibly be THE Hallmark Christmas movie cliché. Just my luck.
“Mistletoe.” He grins, stepping closer to me. “You know what this means?”
My heart begins to pound wildly. Surely, he doesn’t mean…
He takes another step closer, and I swallow. My fingers tighten their grip around the heel of my shoe while the corners of Parker’s lips rise into a full-blown smile that suddenly has my knees feeling weak.
“Sorry, Little Scott, but being the only person around here with real Christmas spirit, you know how important it is to me to follow the holiday traditions. And the mistletoe?” He points above us. “It’s one of the most important ones.”
I can’t kiss Parker. He’s…he’s Owen’s best friend. Not to mention, extremely dangerous for my heart. I can’t chance resurrecting those old childhood crush feelings.
“I-”
Before I can even respond, he pulls me to him, sealing his lips over mine and silencing my protest.
Parker Grant is kissing me.
Parker Grant is kissing me!
It takes a second for my brain to catch up to what is actually happening. I think back to all the times that I dreamed of this very moment as a teenager, fantasized about him walking into my room, pulling me into his arms and kissing me until I was breathless.
His lips are firm and demanding, yet soft in a way that is completely unexpected. His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer against him as his tongue teases the seam of my lips.
Lost in the moment, my heels clatter to the floor, breaking the spell between us.
Parker tears his mouth away and takes a step back.
Stunned, I reach up to touch my swollen and thoroughly kissed lips. I can’t believe that just happened.
“You know what, Quinn?” Parker says, closing the space he just put between us. “I bet you, right here, right now, that if you give me these seven days you’re home, I can make you fall in love with Christmas all over again.”
His words take me back to when we were kids, when everything between us was an adventure, full of fun and games that we loved to play and never got old.
“Really Parker?” I say incredulously.
His shoulder rises in a shrug. “I know you, Quinn Scott, and I know that somewhere in there is the girl that used to wake up with me in the middle of the night, just to see if we could catch Santa. I know that your old Christmas spirit is there, and if you give me a week, just the seven days that you’re home, I can make you love those things all over again. Love being home again. And if I can’t, then I’ll take your spot in the Christmas musical your mom has told the entire town you're performing in.”
What? Christ on a cracker.
“Hmm. What’s the catch?”
Parker shakes his head. “There isn’t one. You can hand over the elf costume. Tights and all. That is…if I lose.”
Now this…is a bet that I’m willing to take. God, not having to dress up in that stupid costume and prance around a stage? I’d do anything.