“Oh! How about #ShelfDestruct?” I add. “You know. Libraries have shelves, and they destruct in fires.”
She narrows her eyes, suspicious. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Nope.” I widen my eyes, all innocence.
“Uh-huh. Well, for the record, I love #ShelfDestruct. But I’m calling dibs on #LibraryLit.”
We laugh until my stomach aches, both of us sounding like kids who forgot the world outside exists. The laughter fades slowly, leaving that hushed, warm afterglow that makes my heart pound a little harder than it should. I slide closer, slip my arms around her, and pull her against my chest. She fits there too well.
“How about,” I murmur against her hair, “We avoid making any of those headlines and light the fire in the foyer instead. Pretty sure I spotted a kitchen down there, too.” I rub my stomach dramatically. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” she says, leaning into me like she belongs there. “Maybe we’ll find some canned goods or something frozen.”
“There were big, squishy couches down there. Perfect spot to crash later.”
Her face lights up. “And, I have my iPad in the car. I keep my agenda on it, but…” Her lips twitch with mischief. “I may or may not have some Christmas movies downloaded.”
“Die Hard.”
She jerks back, scandalized. “Oh my god. You’re not one of them.”
“One of what?”
“The guys who think Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”
“Isn’t it?”
She lets out a scandalized huff so over-the-top it makes me laugh. Could this woman be any more adorable? “I should’ve asked more questions before I agreed to marry you.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure you asked me.”
She flings her hand in the air, all dramatic indignation. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I can’t marry a monster, Penn.”
“Fine, fine,” I surrender with both hands raised. “Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”
She squints at me, then smirks. “Wow, that was easy.”
“Does that mean the engagement is back on?”
“It is.” She rises on her toes and presses her mouth to mine, soft and sweet and so much more dangerous than a fire in a library.
When she pulls back, her breath fans against my lips.
“Although,” I murmur, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, “If I were a monster—like in Beauty and the Beast—I’d build you a library like this one.”
Her eyes soften, her smile curving slow and sure. “Careful, Penn, tempt me with a library and you just might make me fall for you.”
The words land square in my chest, and for a second, my heartbeat is way too loud in my ears. I press a kiss to the top of her head, hiding the grin that threatens to give me away. “How about you think on the merits of Die Hard while we head downstairs and see how much wood we’ve got. Then I’ll go get the iPad.”
We step back into the hall, our footsteps echoing off the old walls as we take the creaky staircase to the main level. The stone fireplace looms over us like it’s been waiting for us all along. I crouch, flip open the wooden box at its side, and grin. “Looks good. Dry. Plenty of kindling and hardwood.” I glance at her over my shoulder. “Why don’t you find us some paper? Probably behind the desk.”
She salutes and heads off, her hips swaying in a way that makes concentrating on firewood way more difficult than it should be. By the time she returns, triumphantly holding up an armful of paper, I’ve built a little log pyramid on the grate.
“Perfect.” I stand and point. “Crumple some up and stuff it in the gaps I left.”
She arches a brow at me. “Didn’t know you were a boy scout.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I say, giving her backside a playful swat. “Play your cards right tonight and maybe you’ll learn something.”