Chapter 5
FIVE
JUNIPER
For the second time today, Liam’s words catch me off guard. The only thing my body knows to do with that is retreat.
Needing space, I take a step back but it’s too quick, causing me to teeter backwards on the points of my stiletto heels.
Suddenly, I’m sliding. Falling backwards. My stomach drops in anticipation of feeling the cold, hard thud of the freshly snow-packed sidewalk underneath me, but it never comes. Liam’s strong arms are my safety net.
“I got you, Firefly.”
My head snaps up. Firefly?
I wrinkle my nose, but it’s pure defense because something soft flares in my chest. I glance up to find relief etched into the features of his gorgeous face.
“Firefly?”
He shrugs, but there’s something careful in the way he holds me. “You said June Bug felt too childish. I figured Firefly is the grown-up version.”
It shouldn’t get to me. But dammit, I love a good nickname, especially one that sounds like it means something.
And this one from him? It feels like a secret.
Like a promise. And how easily it rolled off his tongue?
It’s like he’s thought about it for longer than the two seconds it took for him to catch me.
But I can’t let Liam see what it does to me.
I try to fight the warm flush creeping up my neck. “You know how women love being compared to insects.” I try for an edge to my voice, but it doesn’t land the way I want it to, coming out more awestruck than angry.
He smiles, soft and steady. “I wasn’t thinking of a bug. I was thinking of something small but impossible to ignore. Bright, unexpected. You walk into a room and everything changes a little. Like when fireflies show up, suddenly the night feels more magical.”
My chest aches at how easily he says it, like it costs him nothing. Like it doesn’t undo me.
Our warm breath mingles in the wintry air, filling the space between us with puffs of mist. Between the haze of our breathing, I can’t stop myself from staring at his lips. From being mesmerized by the indented groove above his upper lip that gives his mouth fullness.
And the way it feels to be wrapped up in his arms? I’d stay here forever if I could.
Liam doesn’t seem to mind our proximity, not like he did last year when he freaked out about our kiss. About me asking him to be my first.
Don’t be that desperate girl, I remind myself before shrugging out of his embrace.
“Thanks.” I clear my throat before proceeding to walk again.
This time, the smooth soles of my boots slide, then the stiletto heel follows with a skitter.
If these stiletto boots were a problem before, they’re even worse now that the snow has picked up.
I stare down the icy, snow-covered path back toward my apartment.
I’d wanted to impress Liam, to combat the embarrassment I felt last year, by wearing these sexy boots and now the only safe way home is to crawl. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“You have a few options,” Liam says from behind me. “Piggy-back or Fireman’s carry?”
I whirl on him, staying focused on keeping my balance. “Excuse me?”
He shrugs, all smug in his perfectly weather-appropriate boots. “You know those boots won’t make it another foot, let alone four blocks. So, which will it be?”
I lift my chin. “Neither. I’ll just crawl. With dignity.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Right. Very dignified.”
“I’ll be fine,” I huff, though I’m already wobbling again as I try to take a step.
He raises an eyebrow. “Right. Totally convincing.”
I stop, heel skidding slightly, and curse under my breath. I could insist on powering through, but I’ve nearly fallen twice, and pride isn’t worth a broken ankle. I exhale sharply, then gingerly turn to face him again.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But if you drop me, I swear to—”
He grins, stepping forward. “Piggy-back it is.”
“Hey! I didn’t say which one—”
“Too late. I’ve made an executive decision.”
“Liam—”
“Up you go, Firefly.”
He bends down and places his hands on the outside of my thighs, then lifts me up and onto his back. Instinctively, my arms wrap around his neck, pressing my front flush with his back.
I sigh, tightening my grip around his neck. Loving the feel of being this close to him and hating myself for it at the same time.
“You good back there?” he asks.
I make a non-committal shrug, but to shield myself from the falling snow, I lower down closer to him.
My head now tucked against the side of his, breathing in the scent of his cologne—balsam wood and pine with a hint of cinnamon.
The urge to run my nose along the sliver of skin between his coat collar and the nape of his neck is strong.
I’m so distracted by all the Liam overload that I don’t even realize we’ve made it the four blocks to the shelter of the awning that is shared by my store and my apartment entrance.
Damn. I wish that walk was longer.
Click.
The sound of a photo being taken catches me off guard.
“What was that?” I jolt slightly on his back. “Did you just take a picture?”
“You looked cute.” He glances over his shoulder with a smug grin. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Delete it.”
“Nope.”
I wiggle, trying to slide down, but he hikes me higher and laughs.
“That one’s going on my screensaver.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I finally manage to slide off his back and reach for his phone, but he pulls it up and away.
“You’re not keeping that. Give it to me!”
He grins wider, backing toward the door that leads to my apartment. “Not a chance. You’re going to want it later.”
The only reason I’d want it later is so I can print it out and draw devil horns on Liam’s head.
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I leap, trying to snatch his phone.
Thankfully, the wide awning above us has kept this patch of sidewalk clear of snow, giving me enough traction to jump and lunge like a woman on a mission.
What follows is probably ridiculous to anyone walking by: me jumping and lunging, him dodging and blocking with his free hand while laughing like a smug, aggravating man who knows he’s got the upper hand.
“You haven’t even seen the photo. It’s really good.”
Finally, I catch his wrist and tackle him against the doorframe—hard enough that the glass inset rattles and we’re both breathless.
He grins down at me, our faces inches apart. “Careful, Firefly. You keep pinning me against walls, I might start getting ideas.”
My cheeks flame at his teasing, but my task isn’t complete, so I focus on twisting the phone from his grip and pull up the photo.
“Got it,” I say, triumphant yet winded.
“Give it back,” Liam says, tone low and smug behind me. “You’re going to regret it.”
I ignore him, thumb flying to the last image. And then, I freeze.
It’s devastating. Annoyingly perfect. The snow swirling gently around us, my cheeks flushed, arms looped around his neck as I press close. I’m smiling—genuinely smiling—like I’m lost in thought but loving every minute of the ride. And Liam’s grinning like I’ve always belonged there.
It’s warm. Romantic. Aesthetically ideal. Like the kind of picture people put on engagement announcements and Pinterest vision boards.
I love it…but I don’t want to.
Scowling, I hit delete. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
Liam just smirks, totally unbothered.
“What?” I narrow my eyes.
He shrugs, casually brushing snow from his coat. “It’s already backed up.”
My mouth drops. “You didn’t.”
“Synced to the cloud. And messaged to myself.” He shrugs, grinning. “That photo is a masterpiece. There was no way I was trusting your trigger-happy delete finger.”
“You are such a—”
“Genius? Romantic? Devastatingly charming man?”
I shove the phone into his chest, trying to hide the fact that I’m flustered. And hating the fact that a simple photo is derailing all the progress I made moving past my feelings for Liam.
But it’s not just the photo. He still hasn’t said anything. No apology. No explanation. No declaration. Just maddeningly charming grins and a thousand mixed signals.
I don’t like being played with, especially not by someone who already burned me once. If he wants something from me, he’s going to have to use actual words. Otherwise, I’ll keep my heart right where it is. Safe behind the wall I built after he rejected me last Christmas.
Stepping inside, I dust off the snow that’s accumulated on my hat and coat before climbing the narrow, creaky stairs to my apartment.
Inside, the warmth hits immediately, and I’m thankful for my cozy sanctuary. But then Liam walks in behind me and all the stress returns. Dropping my stiletto boots on the drying mat, I start toward the kitchen. I need a buffer, a task. Anything.
Liam follows. I can feel him standing in the doorway, watching me.
“You know where the guest room is.”
“I do.”
I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. I don’t want to feel like this. Like I’m dying a little and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“You know—” I start, turning to face him.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he says, his voice quiet. “But if you think I came all this way just to sleep down the hall and pretend nothing happened between us, you don’t know me very well.”
My heart lurches. I move to brush past him, but he catches my wrist gently, barely a touch.
“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he murmurs. “Just don’t shut me out completely. Please.”
I look up at him, startled by the rawness in his voice.
My defenses crack for half a second, and that’s all it takes. Our eyes lock and I know he must see right through me because the air between us goes thick.
“Goodnight,” I say, my voice not nearly as firm as I want it to be.
Liam releases me, nods once, then disappears down the hallway.
When I hear the door to the guest bedroom shut, I allow myself to drop onto a chair at my small kitchen table.
It’s been mere hours with Liam, and I already feel myself sinking back into old feelings. I just need to make it to Christmas.