Page 21 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

I stepped forward while finally yanking the darn thing free, but my left foot slid out from under me, bringing me crashing down onto the icy sidewalk with a loud, ripping tear.

The pastries were unscathed, thank God.

But then I leaned forward, wincing, and reached under my butt. The fabric of my jeans flapped open. I fell back and pulled my scarf over my face.

Well, that’s just fan freaking—

“Ouch,” someone said above me. “You look like those Peanuts kids after Snoopy threw them loose on the rink.”

“ ‘Everything I do turns into a disaster,’ ” I mumbled.

“Here.” A gloved hand gently pulled the scarf away, appearing in front of my face. “Up you go, Charlie Brown.”

A stranger who references Christmas movies? I suppose I can trust that.

I grabbed the warm glove, letting it lift me to my feet before finally getting a good look at my rescuer. He was tall, maybe even a tad taller than Sam, with fair skin and dirty-blond hair cut close above his ears. His striking blue eyes crinkled on the sides as he smiled.

Whoa.

A hot stranger who references Christmas movies?

Maybe I hit my head harder than my butt?

“So did you damage the goods?” he asked.

My entire body flushed with heat. “Er…excuse me?”

“The goods.” He chuckled and pointed to the ground where the box from Eve’s still sat. “Did they survive?”

“Oh.” I bent down to grab them.

And quickly realized that this guy just got a full view of my underwear.

Red-and-green-polka-dotted.

I jumped back and angled the open part of my pants away from him. “They’re good. I think.”

“You, however, look like you’re in a hurry.” He pulled his green sweater over his head, which lifted the white T-shirt underneath it up high enough for me to see a smidgen of a very hard, very toned stomach.

Hello there.

“Why don’t you borrow this?” He stepped forward and swiftly reached one of the arms of his sweater around me before looping it into a loose knot over the bottom of my jacket.

He smelled like some kind of spicy, expensive cologne and stood close enough that I could make out a tiny scar near his chin in the shape of a half-moon.

“Won’t you be cold?” I asked him as goose bumps dotted his bare arms.

“My jacket is in the car around the corner.” He pointed to the box. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got a basket on my bike.” I nodded toward down the street where the Christmas music had already started playing. “So, are you here for The Market?”

He looked behind him. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Cool.” I swallowed. “I, um, I have to go deliver this to my aunt, but can I leave this sweater somewhere so you don’t forget it?”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “I’m sure I’ll run into you again.”

My ears prickled underneath my earmuffs. “Oh, okay. It was nice to meet you, er…”