The Mistletoe Motive(39)

“Uncle Jon!”

Jonathan sweeps him up and hikes him high in his arms. “Hey, bud.”

“Throw me!” Jack says. “Come on, throw me!”

Rolling his eyes like I’ve seen him so many times, Jonathan sighs. “Ah, I don’t know.”

“Do it, do it, do it!” Jack yells.

Jonathan tips his head side to side, like he’s deliberating. Then, catching Jack completely off guard, he tosses him high up into the air, making his nephew shriek with happiness.

I watch them with a growing sense of panic. I can’t take this, watching Jonathan so confident and capable with his nephew, playfully tossing Jack higher and higher, before hugging him tight. My heart’s melting like hot caramel, warming every corner of me.

After one last toss that earns his nephew’s shrieking laughter, Jonathan sets Jack on the ground, not the slightest bit winded, a faint flush of pink on his cheeks the only clue he just threw a sixty-pound kid into the air a half dozen times. Our eyes meet.

“Liz, Jack,” Jonathan says, eyes on me as he wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders, “I’m assuming you’ve met Gabriella. Gabriella, this is my sister, Liz, and her son, my nephew, Jack. Who I did not know were coming.”

He gives her some kind of censorious sibling glare, but Liz only grins at him, a look that’s downright disarming. She has deep, long dimples in both her cheeks, and her dark blue eyes sparkle. It makes me wonder if Jonathan becomes even more stunning when he smiles, too.

“We’ve met,” Liz says. “Gabby was very gracious about our less than smooth entrance.”

Jack tells him, “She gave me a cookie and let me look at books. And she’s really pretty, just like you said—”

Jonathan’s hand claps over Jack’s mouth, his cheeks turning an even deeper pink. “Ever heard of a secret, Jack?”

“I warned you.” Liz steps in with a baby wipe and cleans her son’s hands. “Don’t tell him anything you don’t want him to repeat.”

“He asked,” Jonathan mutters defensively, pointedly not meeting my eyes. “What was I going to do, lie?”

Jonathan’s mentioned me to his family? He thinks…I’m pretty? I mean, we’ve kissed each other, so I suppose I knew he found me attractive, but there’s something different about hearing it, about seeing the way he looks at me now, serious and a little shy.

He glances away.

“We’re going to look for a few more books, with clean hands,” Liz says, taking Jack back to the children’s section and leaving the two of us alone. The jazz trio’s rendition of “The Christmas Song” plays softly in the background as Jonathan and I stare at each other.

“He’s really sweet,” I say quietly.

Jonathan throws his nephew a glance and buries his hands in his pockets. “He’s a chaos demon.”

It’s so his humor, so obviously a deflection. I wonder how often dry wit has covered what Jonathan really feels. “You love him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

He glances back my way. “Unreasonably so.”

“Lucky him,” I whisper.

Jonathan’s eyes hold mine. The jazz trio’s music fades as the song ends, leaving a new, weighty silence between us.

But then the upbeat melody of “Ocho Kandelikas” colors the air, and the door opens to a rush of customers, the silence trampled by their arrival.





I’m tying a sparkling silver bow around a recycled paper bag stamped with Bailey’s Bookshop logo when I sense Jonathan behind me, big and warm, smelling like woodsmoke and Christmas trees.

My customer senses him, too, and looks a little intimidated.

“Thank you for your business,” I tell them brightly as I set the receipt inside the bag. “Don’t forget to fill up on a complimentary hot beverage before you head outside, and have a happy holiday!”

I spin around and face the grinch behind me. He’s scowling.

“Turn that frown upside down, Jack Frost.”

His scowl deepens. “Have you stopped since the place opened?”

I scrunch my nose, thinking. “Maybe?”

“Eat.” He sets a chocolate cookie with candy cane chunks on the counter, takes my elbow, and plops me on a stool. “And drink that.” He points to a big cup of ice water.

“Wow.” I’m already chewing the cookie. It tastes like heaven. “This is incredible.”

He pastes on a polite almost-smile for the next customer whose books he’s started ringing up and says over his shoulder, “Cardboard would taste incredible after how long you’ve gone.”

Warmth floods me. “Have you been keeping an eye on me?”

“Absolutely.” He starts scanning the next stack of books. “You’re not passing out and leaving me alone in this glitter-bomb hellscape.”

I snort a laugh. “Ah, c’mon, Frost. It’s not that bad.”

He arches an eyebrow, slipping the customer’s card into the chip reader and throwing me a stern glance. “Drink your water, Gabriella.”

“So bossy,” I mutter into the cup before draining it in one long gulp.

I get a grunt in response.

“There you are!” Eli’s voice comes from right behind me. I spin around and see him, shoulder to shoulder with Luke and June.