Penn.
Solid, hard chest, no shirt, and now two hands catching my arms as I wobble.
“Oh, sorry,” I squeak.
He steadies me like it’s nothing and gently pulls me closer, holding me against him for a second longer than strictly necessary.
“You good?” he asks, looking down at me with those ridiculous ocean-blue eyes that should be illegal.
“Yup,” I lie, pretending my entire nervous system isn’t short-circuiting.
Then he smiles.
Not just any smile. That smile. The one that has been messing with my brain and my hormones and possibly the space-time continuum since he walked into the inn last night, and maybe even back in high school.
“And look at that,” he says, voice light, teasing. “You didn’t flinch when I touched you.”
I smirk, trying to recover some ground. “Good thing we practiced.” With a strategic pivot, I dart around him. “I need to shower.”
Smooth.
I march toward the bathroom like I didn’t just trip over my own libido.
Wow. Way to play it cool, girlfriend.
I shower fast, hoping the cool water will chill whatever nonsense my hormones are cooking up, but it’s no use. The heat in my body is not water-soluble. I towel off, throw on jeans and a sweater, and pad back into the bedroom only to find Penn standing beside the bed, brow furrowed, struggling to arrange decorative pillows.
“The inn has someone for that.”
“I know, I just…” He trails off, his hands stilling mid-plump. “I don’t like to make too much work for other people.” His voice is light, but there’s something tight behind it. A shadow flickers across his face, something old and quiet and worn thin. He shrinks back half a step, like he’s trying to take up less space, trying to disappear into the peppermint wallpaper. Heck, I think the elf even let out a sigh of sympathy. But then Penn straightens with a crooked smile, but there’s a flicker in his expression, something tight around the eyes. “I’ve got a lot of good deeds to knock off if I want back on the ‘good’ list.”
“Were you ever on the ‘good list’, Radman?” He puckers up his face and I chuckle. “Let me help,” I say, stepping in. But the second I get within range—BZZZZZ! The mistletoe alarm shrieks. My heart leaps into my throat. Penn’s eyes dart upward. “Okay, seriously,” I mutter, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m going to have that thing uninstalled. Possibly exorcised.”
“Wait,” Penn says, straightening. His tone shifts, thoughtful, serious, but still with that little edge of playful danger that makes my knees suspiciously wobbly. “You know… maybe it’s not the worst idea.”
“What’s not?”
“This. Us.” He gestures between us. “Kissing. Maybe we should try it. Just once. So, we’re not weird if one of these buzzers in the inn catches us off guard again.”
I blink. “You… you want to kiss me?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt. Right?”
Hurt? Oh, it’s going to hurt all right. Deep between my legs.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I guess I don’t like to half-ass anything.”
“Same,” he replies, his voice dropping half an octave. “If I’m in, I’m going all in.”
Gulp.
He winces. “That… that came out wrong.”
“No, I got it,” I say quickly, waving a hand like we’re cool. So cool. Antarctica cool.
“So… kissing? Yeah, okay. Let’s… do that.” I step forward, go up on my toes, mentally prepping for a quick, harmless peck.
But Penn apparently missed that memo.