Chapter 7
SEVEN
JUNIPER
I wait for Liam to disappear down the hallway before I pop in my ear buds and hit play on my audiobook. It’s how I spend my mornings. Listening to a book while I eat breakfast and plan out the day’s tasks.
With the Books & Bubbly event this coming weekend, I need to get the shelves restocked by the end of the week so the store will be ready.
There are at least twenty new boxes of books that need to be put out.
Charlotte, my assistant at the store, has been a huge help with keeping everything organized.
I take another bite of croissant, ignoring the warmth that spreads through my chest at the thought of Liam knowing they are my favorite.
While I jot down a few notes, I listen to the start of a tension-filled scene between Micheala and her ex’s older brother, Johnathan.
Knowing this scene is going to be so good I should annotate it, I jump up to grab the paperback from the living room.
On my way there, I’m licking the chocolate off my lips when I pass my advent calendar and stop in front of it.
I used to make paper chains with the number of links to represent how many days there were until Christmas.
I loved the satisfaction of watching the chain shrink each day when I tore the paper to remove a link.
The equivalent now is my DIY gingerbread house advent calendar with doors that I’ve put little treats behind for each day of December leading up to Christmas.
Even though I buy the supplies to put in the advent calendar, I have Cassie put them behind each door so they’re still a surprise. Chocolate truffles, my favorite lip balm, trial size beauty products, and cute bookish items like stickers and keychains.
Opening the door each day is the first thing I do after I get ready, but Liam being here had distracted me. I mean when doesn’t that man distract me?
Sleeping last night had been no exception.
Knowing Liam was on the other side of my bedroom wall didn’t help.
Every creak of the floorboards, every muffled shift of blankets, it all kept me wide awake and way too aware that the man who once kissed me like I was something fragile and dangerous was now only one thin wall away.
At one point, I’d rolled over, punched my pillow, and told myself to stop thinking about him. Which of course made me think about him more. Like how broad his shoulders looked in my tiny hallway, or the smug grin he wears when he knows he’s under my skin.
Focus.
I hit pause on my earbud to stop the playback, then reach for the bright pink door numbered eighteen.
Inside is my favorite lip balm, raspberry cloud, in the limited-edition holiday packaging. Again, it’s not a surprise but there’s still a rush of satisfaction to see what is inside each day. I grab the lip balm, but my fingers brush against something else tucked behind it.
Reaching in farther, I pull out a silk hairbow in a soft blush color.
I do love a good hairbow and pink is my favorite color, but I don’t recall buying this one.
It’s dainty. Pretty. I glance down—and would go perfectly with my outfit today.
I’m heading for the bathroom mirror to try it out all while curiosity has me wondering where it came from.
Maybe Cassie snuck it in.
Or my mom?
In the bathroom, a thin veil of steam hangs in the air from Liam’s recent shower. Using the mirror to guide me, I pull half of my hair back and wrap the hairbow around it.
Glancing in the mirror, I turn my head side to side to admire the way the soft pink bow complements my dark red hair. It’s sweet. It’s feminine. It’s—
“Pretty.”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Liam’s voice.
When I turn, I find him standing in the doorway, freshly showered, a towel wrapped low on his hips.
My breath catches, and I try not to look, but fail.
Water clings to the edge of his jaw. And his perfectly golden bare chest.
Damn. This is not very helpful to my morning routine. Or my sanity.
His entire chest is on display, and it’s unfair how devastating he looks.
My eyes zero in on his tattoos. The one beneath his collar bone.
The one across his ribs. And the one on the inside of his right arm.
The tattoos he revealed with every holiday drink sample we consumed.
Then there are the ones I haven’t seen. Another handful in various places that have my eyes feasting with each new discovery.
“Did you need something?” I ask, eyes now firmly fixed on my own reflection.
He doesn’t move. Just leans one shoulder against the doorframe, his gaze flicking up to the ribbon in my hair.
“Just admiring the view.”
I give him a look.
“The bow,” he clarifies, smile tugging at his mouth. “You always looked good in pink.”
For a moment, it feels like we’re back to that flirty, chemistry-laced place we were last year at the liquor store. When I thought I felt something bubbling between us. Something warm, real, and maybe even worth hoping for.
How wrong I’d been.
I’m not about to mistake kindness for intention. Not again.
“Like you noticed,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“I’m not wearing it for you,” I say, loud and deliberately.
“Didn’t say you were.” His dark eyes spark with amusement, all smug and utterly Liam. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”
He pushes off the doorframe, stepping past me to the second sink at the vanity.
As he passes by, I inhale a familiar scent.
Winter plum. It’s the scent of my seasonal shampoo.
“Did you use my shampoo?” I ask.
“Yeah, I forgot to pack some. Hope that’s okay?” His smile widens, picking up the razor on the counter. “It smells good. Festive.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out because now all I’m picturing is Liam standing in my shower, steam curling around him, water running down his chest, descending his stomach to where his—
I stop my runaway thoughts, refusing to think about Liam’s naked body in the shower. Imagining what it would be like if had his hand wrapped around his—damn it, I just did it again.
Gah. I need to get control of this situation.
“I guess if you want to smell like a girl,” I tease.
“Not just a girl.” He dips his razor under the faucet, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Like you.”
That shouldn’t sound provocative. It shouldn’t make heat unfurl low in my stomach like a match has been struck, but it does.
“You know, I might’ve used that purple loofah, too. The fluffy one hanging on the hook.”
The razor slides against his jaw. He looks so casual, shaving in my bathroom like he’s done it a thousand times, and he plans to do it another thousand more.
It’s fascinating and sexy, and I hate that I can’t stop staring at him. Can’t stop wondering what it would be like if he were here every morning.
“W-what exactly did you do with it?” I cross my arms, trying not to squirm.
He dips the razor back under the faucet, then tilts his head like he’s pretending to think it over. “I don’t know. What do you usually do with it?”
My eyes narrow. “That’s none of your business.”
He finishes his shave, then grabs a hand towel to pat his smooth jaw dry while I continue to openly stare at him.
Still looking too comfortable with one of my bath towels wrapped around his trim waist, he turns in my direction.
“Did you need something, Firefly?” he asks, teasingly throwing my words back at me.
“Yes.” I swallow hard, but force myself to take what I hope to be an intimidating step toward him, my jaw tightening at how irritated, yet turned on, I am. “My apartment back.”
Liam doesn’t flinch. He just smirks, cool and confident. “Your flat?” he repeats, his grin turning lazy. “I’m not here for the real estate, Juniper. I came for what I left behind.”
My mind races with what he could be referring to.
Reading my confusion, he edges closer. I get a whiff of winter plum a la Liam. It’s my scent, but on him, it’s something else. The holidays wrapped in sin and spice.
“You.”