Christmas Sugar (Insta-Spark)

Kissing!

I ran a hand through my hair. What the hell was I thinking, kissing a total stranger?

Except—she didn’t feel like a stranger.

What was it about that woman? Why was I reacting to her that way?

She made me laugh, and smile, then angered me—all in the blink of an eye. She didn’t take any shit from me, and I liked that. She was bossy and tough, but when I saw her with her daughter, her tenderness showed through. Add in the fact that she catered to my demanding ass, and I knew there was more to her than she let others see.

I ran my fingers over my mouth, still tasting her. I thought how it felt when I kissed her. The feelings she stirred in me.

God, she was sweet. Her mouth, the feel of her pressed close, wrecked me. I had no idea why I had kissed her, but once I started, I didn’t want to stop.

Until, that was, she ran from me.

It took everything in me not to follow her. I wanted to drag her into my arms again and kiss her until she forgot about everything but me. Us.

I shook my head.

Us?

I had just met her yesterday and I was thinking us?

I groaned, dropping my head in my hands. It had to be the sugar. I never ate sugar. Between the pie last night and the waffle this morning, I was on overload.

That had to be the explanation. I never acted as impulsively as I had a moment ago with Alex.

The boots that had started the entire scene lay on the floor, forgotten.

Bending down, I picked them up. They were well-worn, although still in decent shape, and I remembered her words, “Seth hadn’t grown into them yet.”

Who was Seth to her? Why was she saving used boots for him?

I estimated she was about six years younger than I was, which would make her about twenty-eight. She was much too young to be Seth’s mother.

Sister, maybe?

He’d been looking after her daughter last night.

While she worked.

I glanced around the room, my eyes narrowed. She’d been working last night. She was working again today. I knew she’d spoken with Amy yesterday afternoon.

Did she work all the time? Was that why she looked so exhausted?

Did she live in the hotel?

Where was Noelle’s father?

I had so many questions—I wanted answers to them all.

I glanced at my watch. I had an hour before I was to meet with the mysterious Mr. Walsh.

Maybe he’d be able to give me the answers I was looking for.

I certainly planned to ask him.

I APPROACHED THE FRONT DESK warily, unsure of Alex’s reaction. She glanced away from the woman she was speaking to, briefly meeting my eyes. Color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t stop the conversation with her coworker. I waited patiently, even managing to keep my toe-tapping fairly quiet. My fingers drumming on the top of the scarred wood were a little more obvious, though.