Chapter 7

SEVEN

Kip

I almost kissed her last night.

It was so close, I could feel the electricity in the air between us. Her eyes were soft, full of hope and warmth, and I swear my heart stopped when she looked up at me like that. But I chickened out. My feet moved before my brain could catch up, and I walked away like an idiot.

Now, it’s two days until the holiday party, and I can’t stop thinking about it. About her. About kissing her and doing a hell of a lot more than that to her.

I’m back at the town hall, helping Huxley and the girls finish up the last of the decorations. The square is coming together beautifully, with garlands, lights, and other decorations strung along the lamp posts and buildings, and the smell of pine and cinnamon filling the air. But I can’t focus on any of it. All I can think about is how close I was to kissing Ginger, how her lips would have felt against mine, how she might have?—

“Yo, Kip, you spacing out?” Huxley’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I shake my head, trying to snap back to the present.

“Nah, just... focusing,” I mutter, grabbing another string of lights and draping them over a nearby archway.

“Thinking about Ginger?” Huxley asks with a knowing smirk.

I grunt in response, which only makes him chuckle.

As we work, I catch glimpses of Ginger across the square. She’s helping with the mistletoe, her auburn hair catching the light as she laughs with Cora. Every time she smiles, it feels like a punch to my chest. She’s beautiful, in that effortless way that makes it hard to look at her without wanting more.

And then, just as I’m starting to focus again, I see them—two guys, strangers, walking up to her. They’re laughing, chatting her up, their eyes lingering on her in a way that makes my blood boil.

I set down the lights, my jaw clenching as I watch them. One of the guys steps closer to Ginger, and I can see the way her smile falters, her discomfort clear.

That’s it.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m moving toward them, my fists clenched at my sides. When I reach them, I step right between Ginger and the guys, my eyes cold as I look at them.

“You need something?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

The guys glance at each other, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. “Uh, we were just?—”

“You were just leaving,” I growl, cutting them off.

They stare at me for a moment, but one look at my face is enough to make them reconsider. With mumbled excuses, they back off and shuffle away, leaving me standing there, fuming.

“Wow,” Ginger says from behind me, her voice soft with surprise. “That was... intense.”

I turn to face her, my anger fading the moment I see her face. She’s not upset—if anything, she looks amused. “Sorry,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “They were bothering you.”

She smiles, a real one this time, and it sends a wave of warmth through me. “Thanks, Kip. But I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” I say, trying not to sound too defensive. “But I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

Her smile softens, and for a moment, we just stand there, the noise of the town fading into the background. There’s something between us, something I can’t quite put into words, but it’s there. It’s always been there.

“Hey, I need to head back to the bookstore for a bit,” Ginger says, breaking the silence. “Want to walk with me?”

I nod, eager for any excuse to spend more time with her. “Sure.”

We leave the town hall together, the cold winter air biting at our faces as we walk down the snow-covered streets. It’s quiet, the town peaceful in the early evening, and for once, I feel calm. Just being near her makes everything feel right.

As we reach the bookstore, something catches my eye—mistletoe, hanging just above the door. My heart skips a beat, and I glance at Ginger, wondering if she’s noticed it too.

She does. Her eyes flick up to the mistletoe, then back to me, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

This is it. No backing out this time.

I take a step closer to her, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she steps closer too, her breath visible in the cold air between us.

And then, without overthinking it, I lean in and press my lips to hers.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like we’re both testing the waters. But then she kisses me back, and everything else disappears. The cold, the snow, the world—it’s all gone, replaced by the warmth of her lips, the way she fits perfectly against me.

It feels right. More right than anything has in a long time.

When we finally pull apart, my heart is racing, and I can see the same surprise in her eyes that I feel. For a moment, I wonder if she knows—if she realizes that I’m the one who’s been writing to her all these months.

But before I can say anything, she smiles, and it’s like the whole world lights up. “I guess that’s what happens under mistletoe, huh?”

I chuckle, though my mind is still racing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

We stand there for a moment longer, the weight of the kiss lingering between us, but then she steps back, her smile soft and shy. “I should get back to work.”

“Right,” I say, nodding. “I’ll, uh... see you later?”

She nods, her cheeks flushed as she heads into the bookstore. I stand there for a second, watching her disappear behind the door, and I can’t help but wonder—did she kiss me because she wanted to? Or was it just because of the mistletoe?

The question gnaws at me as I turn and walk away, my mind spinning with uncertainty. Does she like me? Or is she just caught up in the tradition, the magic of the season?

I head towards work, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I try to make sense of it all. By the time I reach the garage, Huxley is there, working on one of the helicopters.

“How’d it go with Ginger?” he asks, not looking up from the engine.

I hesitate, the memory of the kiss still fresh in my mind. “We kissed.”

Huxley looks up, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? That’s great, man!”

I shrug, though my heart is still pounding. “Yeah, but... I don’t know. It was under mistletoe. What if it was just because of that? What if she doesn’t actually...”

Huxley shakes his head, grinning. “Come on, Kip. If she kissed you, it’s not just because of mistletoe. Trust me.”

I don’t respond, the doubts still lingering in the back of my mind. But then Huxley changes the subject, his grin widening.

“Speaking of girls, I need your help with something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “With what?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually sheepish. “Cora.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re finally admitting it, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Huxley mutters, though there’s a smile on his face. “But I have no idea what to do. She’s... difficult.”

I snort. “Difficult? She’s perfect for you, and you know it.”

“Maybe, but she’s also impossible to figure out. Every time I try to get close, she pushes me away. What am I supposed to do?”

I think for a moment, then grin. “Stop pissing her off, for one.”

Huxley laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, easier said than done.”

We spend the next hour brainstorming ideas, throwing out everything from grand romantic gestures to simple conversations. But in the back of my mind, all I can think about is Ginger. That kiss. And whether or not she feels the same way I do.

Because in two days, I’ll know for sure.

The holiday party is coming up, and everything will be decided under that mistletoe.

Best or worst Christmas ever—I guess I’m about to find out.