A Kiss for Christmas Read online

  I deserve this.

  “No!” I cry suddenly, my voice coming out louder than I planned. Daniel stops. I close the distance between us in a rush, reaching up to clutch on to his coat. “Do you mean it?” I demand, my heart racing. “What you said, just now. Was it true?”

  I gaze up at him, breathless, knowing somehow that whatever he says next could be the most important words in my life.

  “It’s you,” Daniel tells me, with a tender smile that makes my heart sing. I feel dizzy, light-headed, like this is all just a dream, but no: he’s here, solid under my hands, his arms going around my waist to hold me up, hold me closer to him. “I don’t know how, but … I couldn’t just walk away.”

  Before I can say a word, he bends his head and captures my mouth in a passionate, heart-stopping kiss.

  Oh.

  I melt against him, falling into the kiss; reveling in the taste of him and the glorious feel of his body against mine. Daniel pivots me back against the wall, pinning me in place with his hands as our lips ask and answer every question, over again, until there’s no doubt at all left in my mind.

  He came back for me.

  Me.

  Finally, there’s a noise above us on the stairs. We break the kiss, and I look up, dizzy, to find Juliet there, watching us with a smile. She’s radiant in her dress and veil, a vision in white about to walk down the aisle.

  “The wedding!” I yelp, remembering where I am.

  She laughs. “Yup, sorry to interrupt. You want to go tell them to start the music?”

  “Sure, right, yes.” I blink, my breath coming fast. I shoot an anxious look at Daniel. This has to be weird for him.

  He just chuckles, offering me his arm. “Shall we?”

  I take his arm and walk slowly down the back steps, around to where everyone is waiting. I catch looks of surprise and confusion from Emerson and the others, and pause, suddenly panicking.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?” I whisper. “I mean, if this is too awkward …”

  Daniel shakes his head, guiding me into a seat in the front row. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, still holding my hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but … it makes a strange kind of sense. Juliet needed to find her soulmate, and me …” He pauses, smiling. “I had to find exactly what I needed too.”

  His eyes are warm on mine, full of meaning, and I feel a glow shimmer through me from my head to my toes.

  The music starts, cutting off my response, but it doesn’t matter, my heart is already flying from his words. He wants this to be more than just one crazy night together; more than a casual fling. After years telling myself I’ll never have a man like him, he’s right here beside me, proving me wrong.

  I deserve this love, and it’s finally mine.

  The ceremony is beautiful. Juliet cries, saying her vows, and even Emerson looks choked up as he slides the ring on her finger.

  “I promise to love you and care for you,” Juliet tell him, eyes shining with tears. “To be the light in your darkest days, and the guide on your way home.”

  “I promise to be there for you; to support you, and provide for you, to protect you and love you, always.” Emerson’s voice is hoarse with emotion. “I promise to build a home with you, full of laughter and love, and to lay my life down whenever you need me.”

  The Reverend smiles at them. “Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

  The crowd erupts into cheers as Emerson sweeps her into his arms. He dips her almost to the floor as he kisses her, and Juliet clutches him, beaming.

  It’s magic, and I’m so lost in happiness for the pair of them that I don’t even register the tears streaming down my face until feel a squeeze on my hand. Daniel. “You’re crying,” he tells me, concerned.

  I swallow back my tears. “I’m happy!” I sniffle. “For them, and for us, and, for everyone!”

  He laughs, and we watch Juliet and Emerson head back up the aisle towards the house. People start after them, but Daniel holds me back a minute.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Daniel adds, turning my palm over to stroke circles in my palm. “You should come back to the city with me for New Year’s. Celebrate together, to new beginnings.”

  My heart skips, and I realize the shape he’s tracing is a heart. I nod, too overcome to speak. I can’t remember the last time I was lost for words, but this man, right here, affects me like no other. “Yes,” I manage to reply.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  “I think you’ll like it,” Daniel smiles back at me. “Bright lights, big city. I’ve got this big apartment all to myself. And,” he adds, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “I bet they always need more event planners too.”

  A yell from the house interrupts us: Brit, waving us in. “What are you waiting for?” she yells, “It’s time for the party!”

  I laugh, taking Daniel’s hand and tugging him inside before we freeze to death. I don’t need to answer him, not right now. Whatever we chose, wherever I go, this is the start of something: the next chapter in my life. With him.

  Together.

  Not Quite The End …

  After

  Garrett carefully took down the bridal arch and carried it to the back porch to store with the rest of the chairs and decorations for the night. The wedding had been over for hours. It was dark out now, and everyone else was inside in the warm, celebrating the happy couple, but he’d insisted on taking clean-up duty. It was the least he could do for Emerson and Juliet, and besides, he needed the space away from the crowd.

  He worked silently in the dark, snowy yard, bathed in the glow of lights from the house, and the silvery moon shining bright across the bay. His breath fogged in the cold, but Garrett didn’t mind: he liked the sting of crisp air in his lungs, and the pull in his muscles as he dismantled the heavy wood. Anything to distract him from the memories spinning in his mind, creeping through his usual defenses and catching him square in the chest like a sucker punch he’d never seen coming.

  They’d looked so happy, Juliet and Emerson. They deserved it, he knew, but still, it was a thing to see, when she’d appeared at the end of the aisle and Emerson’s jaw dropped. The way she’d looked, walking towards him, so full of pride and hope and nervous excitement, Garrett knew that expression by heart.

  It was the way his wife had looked at him on their wedding day.

  A noise startled him out of old memories, and he looked up. It had come from out past the woodshed, on the edge of the property down by the beach. “Hello?” Garrett called, moving closer. “Anyone there?”

  There was another muffled sound, and when he rounded the corner, he found a blonde woman there, fumbling with her phone.

  “Oh, hey, sorry.” Garrett stopped. She lifted her head, and he recognized her from earlier. Juliet’s older sister, Carina, he thought she was called. She hadn’t helped with any of the set-up, she’d just arrived at the last minute for the ceremony in an expensive-looking black dress, watching the vows with a faint sneering expression, distant and remote.

  Now, for a moment, her expression was open and unguarded, her heart-shaped face looking young and alone.

  “Are you OK?” he asked, stepping closer.

  Carina flinched back. “Fine,” she snapped, her voice high and shill. Her face shuttered shut, and in a moment, her expression was aloof again. “What do you want?”

  Garrett paused. “You’re cold,” he said, noticing her slim frame shivering. “Here, you’ll freeze out here without a real coat.”

  He shrugged off his heavy jacket, but Carina shook her head, her glossy blonde hair barely moving.

  “I’m fine.” she insisted.

  Garrett sighed. “Your feet are turning blue.”

  They both looked down to where her ridiculous stiletto heels were sinking into the snow. Carina looked annoyed. “I didn’t realize they were serious about having this thing outside. Who gets married in the freezing snow when they can do it inside, like civilized people?”
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  Garrett felt his patience wearing thin. “Either take my jacket, or get inside. It would screw up their honeymoon to have you die out here of pneumonia.”

  Carina snatched the jacket from him, looking pissed, and began to totter towards the house.

  “A ‘thanks’ would be nice, darlin’” Garrett drawled, walking behind her.

  Carina turned, glaring. “I know just what kind of thanks you want, and trust me when I say, it’s never going to happen.”

  “Woah there,” Garrett protested, indignant. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ve heard all about you,” Carina fixed him with a penetrating stare. “You’re the good-time bar-keep who has his way with anything in a skirt. Well, I’m taken,” she told him, holding up her hand so he could see the huge rock twinkling on her ring finger. “And even if I wasn’t, I’m not that desperate,” she sneered at him knowingly. “Not in a million years.”

  Garrett’s temper flared. Here’s what he got for trying to be gentlemanly: this girl acting like he was something she scraped up on the bottom of her expensive shoes.

  “You sure about that, darlin’?” Garrett took a step towards her, narrowing his eyes. “Because judging by the chip on your shoulder and that stick up your ass, you haven’t been getting what you need for a long, long time.” He reached out to trail a finger down the side of her bare neck. Carina slapped his hand away, flushing, but not before he saw the shock of awareness in her eyes.

  “Don’t touch me!” she demanded, her voice carrying in the empty garden.

  “Relax, sugar,” Garrett scowled. “You’re not my type. I prefer my women flesh and blood, not stuck up ice-queens like you.”

  Carina set her lips in a thin line. “You’re disgusting,” she informed him, stepping back. Her shoe must have caught on something in the snow, because she lurched wildly with a cry.

  Garrett made to catch her, but then stopped himself. “I won’t trouble you any longer then,” he told her with a smirk. “You have a nice night.”

  He turned and headed back for the house, leaving her there, balanced on one leg in the snow.

  “Wait!” Carina’s voice echoed after him. “You can’t just leave me like this!”

  Garrett kept walking, letting himself into the house with a smile. He’d let someone know she was out there, send someone to help, but for now, she could use a moment to cool off. Literally.

  A burst of noise and laughter hit him as he stepped inside. Garrett paused a moment to let it wash over him, chasing the dark memories away. The past was done, he reminded himself. There was no changing it.

  He grabbed a beer from the table, and caught the eye of a girl across the room. She was friends with Brit, he thought, a pretty brunette who seemed sweet enough. That was what he needed, he decided, taking a first gulp and starting across towards her. A few beers, and a woman for the night, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat like all those other nights before, his heart beating out for a past he couldn’t change; reaching for a woman who was never coming back.

  Garrett reached the girl with a smile, and set about forgetting his pain the only way he knew how. Sure, love was grand for his friends, for Juliet and Emerson, and Brit and Hunter, but he’d learned his lesson now.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  To be continued…

  Discover Garrett and Carina’s story in the next Beachwood Bay book, UNCONDITIONAL - Available now! Click here to download from your retailer of choice.

  The Beachwood Bay Series:

  1.Untouched

  2.Unbroken

  3.Untamed Hearts

  4.Unafraid

  5.Unwrapped

  6.Unconditional

  7.Unrequited

  8.Uninhibited

  9.Unstoppable

  10.Unexpectedly Yours

  11.Unwritten

  12.Unmasked

  13.Unforgettable

  Unexpectedly Yours

  A Beachwood Bay Love Story

  UNEXPECTEDLY YOURS

  A flirty, festive treat from New York Times bestselling author Melody Grace!

  Sophie Young has been dreaming about the perfect Christmas in New York ever since she was a kid. But when her boyfriend bails on their romantic trip for two, she finds herself stranded in the city on Christmas Eve, with only a holiday-hating smooth-talking, utterly sexy stranger for company…

  Rock-star Austin Kelly is fed up with Christmas – he’s more interested in who’s going to be cozying up under the mistletoe. But when his little black book comes up empty, he finds himself on a whirlwind tour of the city with the most unlikely partner in festive fun…

  The snow is falling, but things are definitely heating up inside. And by the time the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve, there will be plenty to celebrate with old friends and familiar faces back in Beachwood Bay.

  Sophie

  Christmas Eve

  Christmas in New York…

  Ever since I was a girl, snuggling in to watch holiday movies, I’ve dreamed about the day I would experience it for myself. The lights, the store windows, ice skating at Rockefeller Center, the sleigh ride through Central Park… Growing up in LA, with fake confetti snowfall and balmy 75-degree weather, I couldn’t wait to wrap up warmly in mittens and walk hand-in-hand through the softly-falling snow with the man of my dreams—

  “Watch it, red!”

  A stressed-looking man shoves past me to the baggage carousel. I leap back, right into the path of the other three hundred people all charging to get their luggage.

  “Sorry… Sorry…wait!” I try to duck out of the stampede, but there’s no escape. The afternoon before Christmas, and the airport is madness: kids screaming, businessmen wielding their laptop cases like shields, hoards of tourists squinting at their phones. Last year, a friend of mine dragged me to a sample sale at a wedding dress warehouse. You haven’t seen chaos until you’ve watched five hundred wild-eyed brides-to-be fighting over the same 70% off Vera Wang strapless sheath. They had to call in riot police, and the whole thing wound up on the evening news.

  But this? This is a whole other level of insanity.

  I grip my suitcase tighter and fight my way to the exit. The doors slide open, and I step outside into a blast of icy frigid air and the sound of horns blaring in traffic.

  Holy crap, that’s cold!

  I bite back a gasp of shock. Just remember, you can’t have moonlit walks in the snow without actual snow, I remind myself, wrapping my vintage red wool coat tighter. I look around, but the sidewalk is packed with people.

  “Excuse me,” I flag a passing security guy. “Where’s the taxi stand?”

  “You’re looking at it.” He hurries on, rushing to separate two guys about to throw punches over the next cab in line. Behind them, the impatient crowd stretches around the block.

  Plan B, then.

  The Departures level is right upstairs, so I drag my suitcase into the elevator and head upstairs, hoping to snag a cab from someone just arriving to fly out. As the elevator fills, I slide my phone from my pocket and check to see if Matt has arrived. I wanted us to travel together, get the full romantic getaway experience from the minute we left LA, but he had a medical conference scheduled this week, so we had to fly out separately. Three romantic, snowy days in New York for Christmas, then on to Connecticut to meet his parents for the first time.

  I can’t wait. My suitcase is heavier than an anvil, bouncing along behind me, packed full of “seduce me” slinky dresses for my candlelit dinners with Matt, and demure, “love me” dresses to wow my future in-laws. I shopped for weeks at my favorite vintage and thrift stores in LA, and since I’m a stress packer, I couldn’t leave anything behind. I want this trip to be perfect. I’ve planned every minute of our New York adventure: all the sights I’ve been daydreaming about ever since my babysitter slid Serendipity into the old VCR and I fell in love with the city for the first time.

  “Hey
babe, just checking in.” There’s no new messages, so I leave him a voicemail. “My flight landed fine, so I’ll see you at the hotel.”

  I duck out of the elevator and head outside again, but this time, the sidewalk is blissfully empty. Everyone is rushing straight inside to catch their flight, leaving their cabs free. I spot one just about to pull away from the curb and wave.

  “Wait up!”

  The driver sees me and pauses, popping open the trunk. But I’m just dragging my suitcase over when someone hurries past. It’s a sandy-haired guy wearing a dark wool jacket and a pair of cowboy boots. His bag catches my shoulder hard, knocking me off balance.

  “Hey!” I stumble, slipping on the icy ground. The world tilts as I flail for dear life, but gravity wins.

  I go crashing to the ground, ass-first, feet in the air.

  “Oww!”

  The guy doesn’t even hear me. He opens the door of the cab—my cab!—and slides inside. The driver sends me a sympathetic look, but he doesn’t stop to help. They drive away, leaving me in a heap on the ground with my belongings scattered all around me and muddy ice slush soaking into my pants.

  Welcome to New York City.

  By the time I’ve managed to find another cab and haul my shivering, wet body into the car, the glow is definitely off my holiday spirit. Matt still hasn’t called, and his flight was supposed to arrive a couple of hours ago. I leave him another message, and cross my fingers that he hasn’t been delayed by snow somewhere.

  “Here for the holidays?” My elderly driver makes small talk from up front as we speed away from the airport. There’s a fake holly branch swinging from the rear-view mirror, and he’s got the radio tuned to a golden oldies station, Elvis crooning about it being a blue Christmas without you.

  “Yes,” I reply, trying to squeeze the ice water out of my jeans.