12 Days of Mistletoe

15. Bonnie

FIFTEEN

bonnie

Am I ready? To kiss Elliot. In front of May… No and no.

“Gran, this is crazy,” Elliot says, and I think he might be sweating. “This isn’t how you get to know another person.”

“Elliot James Eaton, did you just call me crazy? I won’t stand for that, young man. Now, you made a bargain. My rules, your building, her dog.” Her brows lift, asking without asking: any questions?

Noel whines at my feet. She knows the word ‘dog,’ and she doesn’t like that we’re talking about her—not in that tone.

“If you don’t follow the rules, you don’t get your building—but also, Bonnie doesn’t get to keep her dog. Now how do you feel about that?” May Elliot is a force. And while that force is currently working against me, I hope I grow up to be just like her one day.

“Gran,” Elliot says, his voice stern, his gaze bouncing over to me. He’s going to go all manly and tell her what’s what.

I don’t think it’s going to work .

I’m no help. I want to keep my dog and my apartment.

“Kissing is vital,” May says. “If you mess this up, your parents and sisters will immediately know that you’re lying. And then where will we be? Do you want your mother to look at you with that face every time she sees you?”

“What face?” Elliot’s brows pinch together.

“You know perfectly well what face—the one that wonders what her son is doing with his life.”

“Oh. That face,” he says, his lip curling. “I thought you didn’t condone lying.”

May lifts her chin. “I do not. Now go stand by Bonnie.”

Okay—maybe I can see where Marlene gets her gumption.

“Oh wow. Okay.” I choke on the words, a nervous tremor making its way down my back. “We’re doing this now? Like now now?”

“Yes. If it helps, I’ve placed mistletoe in every single one of my doorways for you.”

“Ah—” My voice cracks and nothing else escapes me. I peer around the sitting room, two doorways visible from here, and sure enough, two sprigs of holly and berry dangle from the center of each of those doors.

“If it helps?” Elliot runs a hand through his neatly combed hair, making it stick up like a rooster’s crown. “I think this is one of those things that needs to happen naturally—or at least when the situation calls for it. There’s not a situation … right now.”

May huffs. “Practice makes perfect. I already told you, twelve days, twelve kisses. Take the deal or leave it.”

As if they are in cahoots, working together, Noel whines, setting her chin on my knee and peering up at me with her big brown eyes. I’m not losing Noel—or our home. “Come on, Eaton. Let’s do this.” I stand and rub my hands together as if I’m about to enter a boxing ring rather than lay one on the man.

Elliot’s crazed eyes and frown ask me if I am joking. So, I walk over to the doorway at my right and stand beneath May’s mistletoe. Because—nope, not kidding over here.

“Now, that’s the spirit,” May says. “Come on, Elliot. Be more like Bonnie.”

My lips form an O and blow out the air and discomfort building in my chest. It’s like I’ve gone to anxiety boot camp. I’m here and in training. All anxiety, all the time.

Noel knows it. Not so much that she’s nudging my pocket, telling me to take my meds, but she does trot over to where I stand and rests one of her paws on the toe of my brown boot. She lifts her head until it hits the tip of my fingers, and I breathe a little easier with her touch.

I can do this. It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean a thing. Elliot may be cute, but that doesn’t mean there are feelings involved. Yes, he’s attractive, but I am not attracted . No attraction. Got that, Bonnie? No attraction, nothing to be anxious about. This is a gift—this silly little game May is playing means no more hiding Noel, no more fear of being kicked out. Both of those things have actually caused a lot of anxiety. So, this —this isn’t something to get anxious over. This is a gift.

I tilt my head, run my fingers through the curls on top of No-No’s head, and peer at Elliot. I give him my best well-get-over-here look. And it must be effective because he wanders over to me.

Standing in front of me, his chest just inches from mine, I peer up into his face. He’s tall—taller than the few men I’ve dated. A few dates here and there and one measly boyfriend. Most guys see me doing breathing exercises, my dog glued to my side, and don’t bother asking for even date number one.

I swallow when he peers back, studying me. Pine and musk fill my senses and my nerves spike a little. But I remind myself— He’s attractive, I’m not attracted. He’s attractive, I’m not attracted.

“I’m sorry, Bonnie. I promise I don’t take advantage of women,” he whispers just for me.

I lick my lips—not meaning to draw attention there, but I see it the minute his eyes drop to my mouth. Finding my voice, I remind him that this isn’t a big deal. “You aren’t. This is May’s plan. And it’s going to get us both what we want.”

“Yes, but it never would have happened had I not asked you to pretend during that family photo.”

“I know you didn’t plan this,” I say— attractive, not attracted.

“Enough chit-chat,” May calls from across the room. “Let’s see how you two do. Go ahead, Elliot, give her a little smack-a-roo.”

I tip my chin up. It’s not like I haven’t been kissed before. I have. And this is a business transaction, so much less stressful.

Attractive, not attracted.

I leave my hands at my side. I wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway—not in this situation.

Elliot lifts one hand, cupping my cheek, and sighs with the task that must be done—wait, does he not find me attractive?

Can’t I be attractive and not attract him too?

Why does it matter? …It doesn’t. For sure. This is just as strange for him as it is for me.

I stand as still as a statue and wait for his mouth to meet my mouth. Five seconds of skin on skin and we’ll have one down, eleven to go. No. Big. Deal.

Maybe I’ll make a paper-chain to count down.

My eyes flutter closed with that thought. I pay attention to my breath. And then—Elliot Eaton lands. His lips, soft, supple, and gentle, press to mine—they don’t move or mold or tease my lips open, and yet pins and tingles make their way from my mouth, to my neck, to my chest, until my entire body prickles like a newly lit firework preparing to explode.

Noel’s head pushes further into my palm, and in three, two, one—Elliot breaks our connection.

And dang it. I might be the tiniest bit attracted to the man.