“Quinn?”
Mom’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s standing in front of me with a glass of creamy liquid, and my mood immediately perks up.
Grandma Scott’s famous eggnog.
The one and only good thing about Christmas.
“Sorry, I was thinking about work.” I plaster on a wide smile, taking the glass from her extended hand. Just what I need to finish out the night.
Hopefully, unscathed, aside from a few fat jabs from Aunt Polly.
Mom’s face softens, her eyes wrinkling slightly at the corners. “Quinn, you work too much. See, this is exactly why I wanted you home for Christmas with us. I want all of us together in the same place, enjoying the holiday and not worrying about work or anything else. I just miss you, honey. It’s been four years since you’ve been home.” Sadness drips from her tone, matching the expression in her eyes.
I hate when we have these conversations because I feel so immensely guilty. Even though the tension between her and Dad is part of the reason I stopped visiting for the holidays, it still hurts that things between us have gotten so distant. That my need for space continues hurt her.
“I know, Mom. That’s why I’m here. All yours for a whole week. I’m even participating in this Christmas musical, even though I would rather throw myself off the Empire State Building”
The thought of this damn musical has the champagne ready to come back up.
She perks up, pulling me to her and smashing me against her chest. “I promise, my darling, it’s going to be the best vacation ever. Even the musical! I’ll make sure of it. Oh, by the way.” Pulling back, she smirks and glances to the side.
“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.