Page 1 of 27 Kisses

One

GARRETT

Twenty-Four Days until Christmas

“Nat?”I stare at the monstrosity taking up space in my office. When there’s no response, I raise my voice. “Nat!”

She rushes through the door, slightly out of breath, gathers herself, and shoves a cup of coffee in my hands. “Keep your shirt on.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Natalie Schell is a demon wrapped in a fireball and dressed in business casual. She’s petite, in her late twenties, with a short bob and sharp features. She’s always cool and collected—unless she’s planning your demise. And even then, you can only tell by the calculating look in her blue eyes. And right now, they’re saying a lot. “Oh, sorry.” She folds her arms and studies me. “You’re the bestest bossiest boss ever. How can I be of service?”

I ignore her sass and point. “There’s a TARDIS in my office.”

Her eyes dart from the blue contraption withPOLICE PUBLIC CALL BOXacross the top to me. “Yes.”

It’s Monday morning, Garrett. Don’t lose it this early in the day. In the week.I take a sip of my coffee. It’s perfect, of course. “Why? That’s my question.”

She smiles. “Because the Dalek yells ‘Exterminate’ when you walk by, and I didn’t want to give you any ideas.”

I sigh. “It’s too early for jokes.”

Nat snorts. “I wish I were joking. It’s supposed to yell ‘Celebrate.’ Jonah’s fixing it.”

I make a frustrated sound in my throat and shove my free hand in the pocket of my dress pants. Nat takes a step back. She’s being overly dramatic. She’s not afraid of anything—especially not me—and I’m more likely to tear out my own hair than hurt anyone. And at thirty-eight, with a father who lost his hair early, I can’t risk that.

In New York, as the marketing director for a leading restaurant holding company, I encountered stress every minute of every day and thrived on it. Now? I’m frustrated by wedding decorations.

But the two aren’t comparable. I’m back in my hometown of Mule Creek, trying to keep my business afloat. Trying to prove to Aidyn—what? That I’m a good businessman? A good provider?

He doesn’t need me to provide for him.

But this is my thing—solving problems, working successfully toward a goal. The thing I’m not so good at? Relationships.

The ring feels heavy in my pocket. I trace the outline with my thumb. It’s a reminder of why I’m working so hard. And why I can’t fail.

“The TARDIS is for the Pattons’ Doctor Who wedding.” Nat walks over and opens the door. “It’s a photo booth.”

I rub my forehead with my knuckle to ease the headache already starting. “Doesn’t anyone do normal weddings anymore? We have this beautiful space with a farm and rolling hills— Nat, are you listening?”

Up to this point, my assistant has been nodding along…and tapping on her phone. “Oh, sorry. Did I miss my cue?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

“No. I got it.” She clears her throat and says, counting off on her fingers, “The customer is always right. Give the brides what they want. And a happy customer is a returning customer.”

I choke on my coffee. “What?”

Nat grins. “Just checking to see if you’re paying attention. Although we did have that one repeat.” She taps her chin as if she’s thinking. “What was that last line again?”

“Go away.” I walk around the monstrosity and sit at my desk.

“Wait. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

I ignore her as I run my hand over the cool metal of my black-and-silver desk. Almost everything in this place is wood. From the beams above us to the quaint furniture. Country. After extensive research into wedding venues in the state, it seemed like my best shot. My office is the exception. More my style. After living in New York—Manhattan, to be exact—for most of my adult life, my return to Mule Creek almost a year and a half ago was a culture shock. I’ve made the most of it, but this office, mirroring the one in my home, is my sanctuary.

And now it has a TARDIS in it.