Page 6 of Big Mistletoe

I smile at her, but it has nothing to do with the decorations. It’s her. The way her whole face lights up when she talks about what she does and how she points at every little detail. “These are perfect.”

She stops and tilts her head at me. “They’re far from perfect.”

I shrug.

She looks down at the pages and then back at me. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I can make changes.”

I stare into her blue eyes. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

Her forehead creases as if she doesn’t understand how I don’t have any input on this. I know I’m disappointing her. I lean back in my chair. “I don’t know a lot about Christmas or Christmas decorating. I’m going to trust your judgment on this.”

The smile falls from her face, and I hate seeing the frown that replaces it. She closes the folder and folds her hands on top of the table. “Tell me about that.”

I immediately sit back. “No.”

Her brows lift.

I reach for the menu. “Have you thought about what you’d like for lunch?”

She doesn’t even look at the menu. She keeps staring at me. “You wanted this to be a date, right?”

I glance at her over the top of the menu.

She sits back in her chair. “Well, I’d like to know a little bit about you, Nicholas Winters. You know, you ask me a few questions, then I ask you a few. That’s how this works.”

I close the menu with a groan. “Fine.”

She waits.

I tense because this is the last thing I want to talk about, but since she’s asked, I can’t just ignore her. “You want to know about me?”

She nods.

I look down at the table for a second before meeting her eyes again. “I’ve never celebrated Christmas.”

Her mouth falls open, and there’s no hiding the shock on her face. “What? I don’t understand.”

I shrug as if it’s not a big deal. Yeah, when I was younger this was harder but not anymore. I’m a grown man, and I’m no longer upset about the lack of Christmas spirit in my life. I raise my hands. “First, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. This is not a big deal.” I inhale and blurt out, “I’ve never celebrated Christmas. Like ever.”

She doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. “I was a foster kid. I moved from place to place, and most of it wasn’t a good experience.”

Her expression softens. I hate that almost as much as I hated the frown.

“I was placed with families that wanted the check. They weren’t worried about whether I was happy or whether I felt like I belonged there, and Christmas wasn’t exactly a priority.”

She’s completely still now.

“So yeah,” I say with a shrug, trying to make it sound like it doesn’t matter anymore. “I don’t know much about Christmas or how to decorate for it. Like I said, you’re the expert.”

Joy sits a little straighter, and the look on her face changes. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but something tells me I’m not going to like it. She takes the folder and places it at one of the empty spots at the table. She picks up the menu. “Okay…”

I reach across the table and wrap my hand around her wrist. Her pulse jumps, and I soothe my thumb across her skin. “Okay? That’s it?”

She lifts her eyes to mine, and I’m shocked to see the lone tear that rolls down her cheek. Instantly concerned, I move my chair closer to her and pull her to me. “Baby, don’t cry for me. I’m not worth it.”

She slaps me on the chest. “Nick, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” She rubs her hand across my chest, right over my heart. “You are worth it.”

Before she can say anything, the waiter comes back. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”