Page 6 of Holly Jolly July

to take such an extreme measure before there’s a quiet knock at the door.

“Oh hello, I’m sorry about this, I—” I’m already talking when I open the door, but all the words that were about to spill

from my mouth are suddenly swallowed.

Because of the age of the cabin, I’d been expecting the owner to match it: an old gentleman with a grey handlebar moustache

and the remnants of what was once a proud mullet. But no, I’m met with the opposite.

Nearly filling the entire door frame is a handsome young man, with wide shoulders accentuated by a narrow waist. His jeans

fit his lower half just snugly enough, leaving little to the imagination, while his upper half is tightly clad in a grey tee.

And his face on top of that, my god. He has the jawline of a Marvel hero, dusted in the perfect amount of scruff, but with

the soft brown eyes of a daytime TV anchor. His hair is hidden under a black sportsball cap, shading his face from the sun.

He seems equally stunned to see me, taking a step back and blinking a few times.

Then, he smiles.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, that smile. Upturned at the corner, a crinkle in his eyes, the tiny rewarding flash of white teeth.

I’m melting.

Or maybe just pooling in my own sweat.

“Hi—hi! Joseph? I’m Ellie.” I put out my hand to shake, then withdraw it, thinking better, but then I don’t want to be rude,

so I stick it out there again.

His smile widens. “Joseph’s my uncle. I look after the place for him. I’m Matt.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me hanging, meeting my hand with his own. His forearms are thick, covered in light brown hair,

and there are all sorts of delightful sinuous muscles and tendons wrapping around them. His hand envelops mine completely

and sends a shiver up my back. He holds on longer than necessary. Or has time stopped? Hard to know for sure.

“Your electrical?” he finally asks.

“Oh! Yes. Come in.” I remove my hand from his, immediately bereft from its warm embrace, and step aside so he can enter.

“Whoa.” He stops in his tracks as he eyes my menagerie of Christmas decorations.

“Don’t worry, it’s all 3M hooks, I won’t leave any permanent damage.”

“No, it’s just... July?”

I giggle. “You don’t say.”

He squints and twists his mouth to the side.

“I’m method acting,” I explain.

He continues his quizzical look.

“It’s where you immerse yourself in a part to really get into the emotionality of it, even when you’re off set—”

“Like Daniel Day Lewis?”

I snap my fingers and jump in excitement. “Yes!”

He gives a short nod of his head. “That explains the sweater.”

I cast a glance down at myself. “Oh, yeah. I’ve had this thing forever. I wear it every year.”

“Are you here for that movie they’re filming downtown?”

My grin grows ten sizes. “Yes! It’s a Christmas movie, hence—” I gesture to my sweater, then to our surroundings.

“That’s so cool,” he says, slouching a little closer to my level. “I feel like I know someone famous.”

My face tingles with warmth. I don’t correct him about the famous part. “Well, if you want an autograph, let me know.”

He chuckles. “I’ll definitely have to get one.”

We hold each other’s gaze for exactly four and a half seconds.

“Anyway,” he says, finally breaking away and stepping toward the bedroom. “The electrical box is in here if you need it again.

It’s behind this picture.”

He has a great voice. It has a playful quality to it, with a slight rasp like he’s just woken from a nap, and there’s a subtle

lisp on his s ’s. I follow him into the bedroom and watch as he lifts a mountain-scape off the wall to reveal the rectangular grey panel.

He opens it, immediately locates the source of my problem, and switches it back. The lights go on, the AC unit hums to life,

and Arnie’s voice begins shouting in the other room about getting back his doll.

And Matt is in my bedroom.

And my clothes are spread out on my bed.

Including my Christmas-themed underwear.

Our eyes land on the red-and-green-striped thong at the same time. I swipe it away and it flies across the room, landing on

the floor somewhere in the corner.

“Uh, thank you?” I say, sheepishly scratching my messy bun.

“Oh, um, you’re welcome,” he says, snapping his focus back to me as he comes around the far side of the bed. I back out of

the bedroom and he follows behind, then turns to face me as he walks backward, our chests brushing alongside each other’s

oh so gently. A titillating zing zips through my entire body, ending somewhere between my thighs. I can’t help but inhale

his scent: masculine, tangy, no masking of cologne or obtrusive soap, like he hasn’t showered yet today. I don’t mind it one

bit. If anything, I want to get closer, run my nose up his neck, taste the salt on his skin at the base of his throat.

He pauses in the living room to admire my handiwork.

I fill the silence while giving my head a subtle shake.

“Christmas is my favourite time of year, so any excuse for another Christmas is great. You know? I love everything about Christmas—” I move past him and get back on my hands and knees to remove the blow-up Santa’s plug so I don’t flip another breaker or start a fire “—I love the music and the decorations and the movies and the gifts and the food, oh my god, don’t get me started on the food, turkey dinner?

Why don’t we eat turkey other times of the year?

Why just Christmas? And—” I scoot backward, plug in hand, and look over my shoulder.

Matt’s head is tilted sideways, his mouth slightly ajar, eyes widened in the telltale way of an adult male who’s been caught

checking out an ass.

He snaps to and averts his gaze, but it’s too late. I noticed him noticing me, and I have the butterflies in my stomach to

prove it.

Emboldened by this knowledge, I stand and take a step toward him, lifting my chin and turning on sultry eyes . “What do you think, Matt?”

“What do I... What?”

“Christmas?”

“Oh, yeah, I love it. Favourite time of year. Yep.” His Adam’s apple bobs.

“I wonder what else we have in common.” I tuck my hands behind my back and smile demurely.

Matt rewards me with a new smile, his own version of sultry. It spreads slowly across his face, eyes twinkling. “Well, I’ll

let you get back to your Christmas decorating. If there’s anything else you need, just send me a text. I’m ten minutes away.”

He backs toward the door, then trips on a box and catches himself against the wall.

“You oka—”

“Yep,” he says quickly, his cheeks turning pinkish as he collects himself and opens the door.

“Bye, Matt.”

He rewards me with one last smile before shutting the door.

I immediately clench my fists and squee as quietly as I can while twisting in a circle, a very subdued happy dance.

Meeting a guy like Matt in a circumstance like this has to be fate.

How is it I just so happened to rent a cabin that’s looked after by a guy like him?

Despite being alone in a strange cabin with a strange man, at no point did I feel any sense of unease.

There’s something about him, something gentle and quiet within that tall, sturdy exterior that speaks to me on a level I barely understand.

It felt like our pheromones had intermingled and agreed with one another.

I may not be the star of the movie, getting an on-screen happily-ever-after where I’m whisked away from the big city to the

magical small town, but maybe, just maybe, I can have the real-life version.

Maybe I’ll get to star in my own romance and be the main character in my own life.

For once.