Host for the Holidays: A Sweet Romance (Christmas Escape) by Martha Keyes

Author:Martha Keyes [Keyes, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

RÉMY

Madi swipes to open her phone, and I watch her as she navigates to an app. The lady is absolutely right. She is beautiful, and she is a keeper, and I’m feeling insanely jealous of Josh that he’s the one who actually gets to keep her. Where is he, anyway? It’s hard for me to believe whatever he had to do (instead of proposing to Madi?) still has him busy.

But Madi doesn’t seem to be preoccupied wondering about that. Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth, but I can see from the way her eyes crinkle at the sides that she’s smiling underneath.

“What?”

She moves next to me and puts out her phone so I can see the screen. It’s the picture the lady took. Madi is cut off at the side, and I’m dead center.

I stop a smile. “Ha! Look who the beautiful keeper is now.”

Madi looks up at me with an eyebrow cocked. “Don’t get too big a head now. Given the quality of her eyesight, I’m not sure how much of a compliment that is.”

Her expression is so teasing and—dare I say flirtatious?—that I can’t help but react by tickling her.

She immediately squeezes her arms to her sides to stop me, but how am I supposed to stop when her laugh sounds like that? It must continue.

She grabs my coat with her free hand, begging for mercy amidst breathless laughter, and I reluctantly relent because Madi’s efforts to get away from me have migrated us across the floor so that we’ll be running into people any second. In fact, we’ve attracted attention, and the lady we nearly ran into is looking at us with anything but amusement on her face.

Yeah, I might have gotten a bit carried away. That’s what happens when you have a lot of pent-up attraction. But Madi doesn’t seem to mind, even though she notices the look the lady is giving us. She glances at me, clenching her teeth with a look that says, Yikes. Then, she takes out her phone and pulls up the picture again.

“She took a burst of photos,” she says, “so now I have . . . yep, thirty pictures. With you in the middle of them all. Oh, nope! Look. You’ve migrated away from the center in some of these last ones.”

The final photo is almost centered. The way it affects my heart to see Madi and me next to each other is wild. There is officially a digital footprint of us—or thirty footprints, I guess—and I have never liked a footprint more than I do now.

I glance over at her. She’s looking at the picture with her head tilted to the side. What is she thinking? There’s no way she likes it as much as I do, and it makes me sad to think she’ll probably delete twenty-nine of the thirty. “Should we ask someone else to take a picture?”

“Absolutely not.” She turns off the phone, leaving all of them intact. “These have so much character. They capture the moment perfectly.

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