Chapter Ten

The next morning, Lilly called Justin about how they’d get to Mary’s.

“Why don’t I just pick you up on the way to your mom’s house before dinner. I have an errand or two to run,” she said.

The idea of a whole day all by himself was a bleak one. Justin stared out the window at the snowy ground. The snow had started to melt and looked icy instead of soft; what had been white and marshmallow-fluffy yesterday was rimmed with a black line of grit and dirt today. It reminded Justin, somehow, of himself.

He was losing his mind. He turned away from the window and moved into the kitchen.

It didn’t help his mood. All he could picture was Lilly, futzing around with her cookies and looking adorable and delighted even as he pretended to complain. He grabbed one of Lilly’s cookies off the foil-covered platter she’d left for him on the kitchen island, and shoved it into his mouth. Sweet and spicy. Just like Lilly.

Pathetic. He really was losing his mind.

“Justin? Are you still there?” Lilly asked.

“Sorry. I’m eating a cookie. You can just come get me. I don’t mind running some errands,” Justin heard himself say. “I’m all dressed and ready to go.” Good Lord, he needed some kind of intervention.

Even Lilly seemed to think so. “Are you sure? I’m going to The Body Shoppe for more candy cane-scented products. They’re having a sale!” Doubt filled her voice. And hesitation. “It’s Sunday. Football is on…”

“I can check the highlights later. On my phone.” It sounded so wrong, but felt so right… “Besides. The Body Shoppe? I must be there. Someone has to stop you from making a regretful olfactory decision.” What was he even saying? Who talked that way? He felt himself flush. As he grabbed another cookie, he wondered if all this lunacy was the result of overloading on carbs.

But Lilly just laughed. “You’re such a weirdo, Justin. All right. I think you’ve lost your mind, but it’s your choice. I’ll be there after I take a shower and get dressed.”

“I’ll be here.” Justin hung up the phone with an odd sense of anticipation in his belly. As he wandered through his empty house, he realized—he missed her. Which was strange, because she’d never been a part of his life prior to this week. Having her in his home for only twelve hours had created some kind of impression; the silence he’d found so peaceful before was oppressive now.

He couldn’t wait for her to get there. To keep himself busy, he even moved the Christmas tree into the living room, pushing the giant old-fashioned stereo console to the other side of the room. It took him a while to re-stand the tree straight in the front window, and it seemed to take forever to clean up the needles that fell off, but in the end, he was pleased with the result. Sure, the tree was bare, but it was a positive Lilly-like change to the atmosphere of the room.

Justin wondered if Lilly would help him decorate it—maybe if they finished up with whatever she needed to do before dinner. They would; it was early and they had a whole day to fill. He wondered again what he’d been thinking, to insist on going with her.

It was a bad idea.

Then again, this technically was her tree. She deserved to decorate it. She loved decorating the tree. He remembered how excited she’d get, every year. She’d put on Christmas carols—ugh—and didn’t complain once about untangling the strings of lights.

He’d called her a freak of Christmas-nature back then, but now…he could only admire her attitude. She was merry.

He was a mess. He wanted to be with her even as he knew it was a terrible idea.

But the visit to the Crosby’s had renewed his resolve. He wasn’t going to destroy a woman he loved—or their children—by getting killed on the job and leaving them husband- and fatherless. He’d lived it. He knew the pain. A little sting now would avert a lot of pain later. So he had to tough it out. He could be Lilly’s friend, but nothing more.

When she arrived, she told him he could drive her car, because she knew that if she didn’t, he’d be backseat-driving the whole way—which was true. It made him feel better to be in control. Until he realized that Lilly appeared to be in some kind of funk, worrying her lower lip with her teeth and shifting back and forth. Something was bothering her. Did he even have to ask what it was? It might be the same thing that was bothering him. That kiss! And the desire to do it again.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t to be. They weren’t to be, and they’d clear that up with his mom and sister later that day. Everyone would agree that was for the best, really, once he explained himself.

Meanwhile, Lilly sat there staring out the window, not talking, which didn’t suit her at all.

He didn’t like it. He completely understood it—which he didn’t like, either. He and Lilly were simpatico in a way that he’d never experienced with anyone except O’Rourke, and that was because they were partners and had to be.

He didn’t want to think about what that meant; it irked him anyway.

Suddenly, Lilly squealed. “Stop the car!”

“What? What’s wrong?” He only managed to stop himself from stomping on the brakes and making the car behind him rear-end her tiny death box. “Holy crap, Lilly!”

“Look! At the church! They’re having a Christmas bazaar. We need to go.”

“You’re kidding me. I nearly caused an accident for a craft fair?” He looked in the rearview mirror; the driver behind him was making rude gestures. He couldn’t blame the guy.

“I want to get your mom a plant, and they always have nice ones at the bazaar. Come on. Pull into the parking lot. I’ll meet you in the vestibule.” She opened the door and slipped out before he could stop her. So much for simpatico.

He found a parking space and as promised, she was waiting for him at the entrance to the church, phone in hand. “I texted Cisco.”

“What?”

“We’re not turning this opportunity down, Justin. This is perfect! There’s community, there’s kids—it’s a church, at Christmas! It’s got everything the holiday is supposed to have.” She pointed to the sandwich-board sign on the sidewalk. “They’ve even got Santa. You’ll have to sit on his lap.”

“I beg your pardon? I will not.”

She fixed her green eyes on him. He tried again. “He might be old and bony. I might accidentally crush him.”

Lilly fluttered her red-gold lashes; his heart melted. Crud. “All right. Maybe. We’ll see. If I’m not going to hurt him or anything.”

Lilly smiled, and his heart restored even as his knees grew weak. “Good! Let’s go in!”

Powerless to stop himself, Justin followed her into the church. As they opened the door, bells rang merrily, and the scent of balsams and cinnamon smacked him like a fist to the face. Christmas. It was painful.

Even more painful were the crocheted toilet paper covers being displayed on the first table they encountered, right in the center of the church foyer. Complete with dolls poking out of the top.

Except…he moved closer to look. “Is that a Ken doll?”

“Yes,” said the gray-haired woman sitting in a folding chair behind the table. “My toilet paper covers don’t discriminate. If you look, dolls representing all races and genders are displayed here.”

“This is fascinating,” Lilly said. “I work for Channel 10 news. Mind if I get a few pics? And what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t. I’m Sandra, and these are only a few of my pieces. I have an Etsy shop. Here’s my card. Iconic Yarns. ‘Your memories, with a modern twist.’ I do other things, too. I have an adult line that’s a little racy for a church craft show—I call it Fifty Shades of Macramé.” She looked at Justin, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Lilly. “If you’re interested in a little exploration, that is.”

Justin frowned. The church bazaar had just taken a turn for the bizarre. In his mind, the craft fair would be just like this—homemade stuff turned out by homemakers and the elderly.

But none of them would be shilling their wares like they were on Shark Tank or making macramé suitable for bondage. “Are there any more tables?” he asked, suddenly feeling weak.

“There are more crafters downstairs in the common room,” Sandra told him. “Nothing as interesting as what I make, of course, but you might find something you’d like.” She fixed him with an appraising eye. “You don’t look like the crafty type.”

Lilly laughed. “You’d be surprised. He’s got doilies. Everywhere.”

“Hey.” Those were his grandmother’s doilies. “I like my doilies.”

“Ohhhh.” Sandra raised her brows. “Then you need one of my toilet paper covers. There’s one over there who looks just like you.” She pointed.

“Is he wearing a pink skirt? He is! Oh, this is perfect.” Lilly lifted the doll and cover from its toilet paper roll. “I’ll take it. Unless…do you have one with blue eyes? Justin’s partner’s eyes are blue.”

“I’m going downstairs,” Justin announced. He’d seen enough of doily dolls; they gave him the chills.

The other crafters weren’t as racy as Sandra, which suited Justin perfectly. There were women selling essential oils and diffusers, quilts and hand-sewn baby clothes, hand-lettered Bible verses and signs, and custom portraits of patrons’ pets. There was also a small kitchen area, where some friendly church members served up coffee and pastries. Justin got himself a cup, then sat down to watch the room.

A bazaar in a basement wasn’t the safest thing, he thought. Hard to get to the exits in case of a fire, and stairs to climb. Lots of older patrons who couldn’t climb quickly; they could be trampled in a panicked situation. He was surprised that the fire marshal had given the church a permit.

Unless he hadn’t, in which case the church was running an illegal bazaar.

Then again, they’d run a Christmas bazaar for as long as he could remember, so they probably were fine. It wasn’t his jurisdiction anyway. Just his years on the street and in Afghanistan talking. He gripped his coffee cup as the familiar waves of panic started to roil in his gut and shake him by the shoulders. Breathe through your nose, he’d been told.

He breathed through his nose. It didn’t help. His heart began to beat double time. Justin let go of his coffee cup; experience had taught him that he might accidentally crush it.

But still…he felt unsafe.

Justin felt even less safe when Lilly appeared, stopping in the doorway to appraise the tables of wares. What would he do if Lilly were in danger? He’d trample anyone if it meant making sure that she was safe. He’d lost enough people that he’d loved.

His body seemed to vibrate to an unheard bass beat; the other noises around him made him grit his teeth. Especially the laughter—it rang in his head, then rebounded and rang again, only louder. His peripheral vision began to darken as his throat began to close and his heart pounded even harder and faster than before…

But then Lilly turned her head. When she spotted him sitting at one of the rickety round bistro tables, she smiled at him, and her grin went straight to his heart. The panic ebbed in the light of her grin, curling to the darkest recesses of his mind where it sat licking its wounds like an injured animal. It would be back, but right now, it left as quickly as it had appeared.

She left the doorway to make her way to him. “Hey, you. I saw you trying to hide over here. What’s the matter? Sandra scare you? I’m going to her house later this week to get pics of her macramé. She’s fascinating.”

“Uh-huh.” He stood on limbs still shaking. “Did you get what you needed? Can we leave now?” Please? He felt the familiar fatigue of post-traumatic stress. On the streets, he knew how to shake it. Business as usual. But here, he was out of his element. For one thing, the compulsion—the need—to keep Lilly safe weighed heavily on him.

Yet she was oblivious to his struggle. In fact, she sat down at the table. “Are you kidding? We haven’t even found Santa yet. Where is he, anyway?” She pointed to his cup. “You finish up, I’ll work the crowd. You’re not in costume anyway, but this will be good for later. Even if I can’t use it in my piece, it’s good to promote the crafters. They’ll help my ratings.” With that, she got up and moved off, phone in hand. In no time, she was chatting it up and making friends.

Classic Lilly.

Justin attempted to sip his coffee calmly. He’d found that acting normal brought normalcy, and now that he could keep an eye on her, the panic had subsided.

Across the room, Lilly stopped at a table full of leafy plants; she turned and waved at him to come to her. He gulped down the now-cold coffee and stood, ready for action. How plants could be a call to action he had no idea. Still…he shouldered his way through the crowd to stand beside Lilly.

“What color poinsettia should we get your mom?” she asked him.

“Red, white, or pink? We’ve got the glittery kind, too!” the woman behind the table said. Justin looked over the forest of potted plants. What difference did it make? They all pretty much looked the same to him. But the women were waiting for his input, so he tried his best.

“I don’t know if you want to give my mom a plant with glitter on the leaves. It’s going to make a mess. I know this from personal experience. We raided an illegal strip joint a few months ago, and I’m still finding glitter in my hair.” Glitter stuck to everything. Forever.

“So that’s why there’s glitter all over your house. I was afraid to ask.” Lilly raised her eyebrows. “I wondered if you had some kind of weird kink.”

The woman behind the table giggled. “Nothing wrong with a little glitter between the sheets.” She turned to someone sitting down beside her and said, “Isn’t that right?”

“It is!” A tiny woman got to her feet beside the first woman; she wasn’t much taller standing than she was sitting. But with her blue-dyed hair, Justin wondered how he’d missed her. She didn’t camouflage well with the leaves. “We love glitter.” She winked.

What was going on with these people? Every one of them was on a level of sharing that made him want to embrace celibacy and privacy. Maybe more than usual. He frowned and shivered.

Meanwhile, Lilly smirked and fussed with a red-leafed plant glimmering with golden specks. “You’re right. And this is such a pretty plant. Justin, you should grab a pink one for your kitchen table.”

“Um, yeah. No. I’ll pass, thanks.”

“It would go so nicely with your toilet paper holder.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her.

Lilly and the pair of plant ladies exchanged an amused look. “He’s a cop,” she said by way of explanation. “Too macho for flowers and plants of any color. And glitter.”

The woman nodded as she wrote out a slip for Lilly’s purchases and told her the total. “I can tell. He’s smoldering and all kinds of hunky over there.” Then she paused and tilted her head. “Wait! He’s a cop? Is he—you’re… Oh! It’s you! I knew I recognized you from somewhere. Not him, of course, because he’s not in his Santa gear, just his street clothes.” She gave Justin the once-over.

Justin felt flattered and somehow uncomfortable all at the same time.

“Yes,” Lilly responded. “You recognize me? Us? That’s awesome! Thank you for watching. Tell me… We’re looking for the church’s Santa. Do you know where he is?” She sounded pleased, even chipper.

Justin, however, felt like he’d stepped into another world. He wasn’t used to being recognized. The post-traumatic stress monster that had only recently curled in his stomach lifted its head and breathed another icy breath. Justin didn’t know how to act, what to feel, or what to prepare for—anything could happen, and none of it was familiar. But it could be dangerous, just like this basement death trap.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” The first plant lady nodded. “He’s my nephew. I’ll text him.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to disturb him,” Justin protested, but she waved that away.

“Nonsense. He’s supposed to be working the crowd selling raffle tickets anyway. But he and his friend Fred have to load up the kissing trellis, and with the snow…I’ll go find out their ETA.” She slipped out from behind the table with her phone.

Lilly turned to Justin. “Isn’t this fun?”

He tilted an eyebrow at her. “That wasn’t the word I was thinking of, but sure. Okay. Fun. I’m having a blast.” He sucked in a breath.

She frowned. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”

“I’m fine.”

She put her hand on his arm. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine.” He shook her hand off. “I’ll be all right.”

She gave him a suspicious look, then put her hand back on his arm and leaned in closer. The heat of her touch curled through his body, pushing back the cold feeling of panic that gripped at him. “We’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

“I hope so.” Justin cast about for some normalcy and a change of subject. “The football game is on, you know. I’m missing it for you. You’d better appreciate it.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, all right? Here. Hold your toilet paper holder.” Lilly pulled a grocery bag out of the big purse she had hanging from her arm. “Think of a name for him.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Justin smiled.

“Of course. He’s got blue eyes…” She paused, then giggled. “You should name him Kevin.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” He peered into the bag; a doll that looked suspiciously too much like a shirtless O’Rourke in a pink crocheted skirt peered back at him. “Lilly! You’ve got to take this back. You spent money on this? I thought you were joking!” Justin closed the bag quickly, but then a thought occurred to him. “I should put it in his locker for everyone to see.”

The blue-haired plant lady started giggling; after a moment, they realized she was laughing at them. “How long have you two been a couple?”

“Excuse me?” Both Justin and Lilly turned to stare at her.

“We’re not—” Justin began.

“Just friends,” Lilly interrupted.

“Exactly. We’re…” He nodded, casting about for the right word. Only one seemed to fit, and Lilly had said it. “We’re friends.”

Blue Hair gave them a knowing smile. “Sometimes friends make the best lovers. I speak from experience.”

“Ah. Well. Yes. We’re not…” Justin trailed off. Lovers? Lovers! No, they were definitely not…

“That,” Lilly supplied.

“Right.” Justin nodded.

There was a change in the crowd; the energy shifted, the noise level rose. Justin’s hackles rose, too, but then the blue-haired plant lady chirped, “Oh. Here come Roger and Fred now!”

“Your Santa’s name is Roger?” Lilly asked.

Justin’s unease began to fade once more. But then Blue Hair said, “Oh! Good! Meg is helping them set up the mistletoe trellis.”

“I heard you say that before. What is a mistletoe trellis?”

“Sounds bad, whatever it is,” Justin muttered.

Lilly smacked him in the biceps. “I’m working. Be quiet.”

Blue Hair looked at them. “You’ll see. It’s going to raise a lot of money. Do you mind keeping an eye on the table for a minute? I’m going to go help set up the green screen.”

“The…green screen?” Lilly looked intrigued. Justin was suspicious.

“Yes! It was Fred’s idea. He’s kind of a geek, but he knows his stuff. He even has his own YouTube channel. With the green screen, couples—or families—can choose from different backgrounds, then put on silly costumes or use the Mistletoe Trellis. Fred will take video and stills and feature them on his channel, so people might go viral. It’s a win-win. We make money for charity, Fred’s channel gets exposure, people have funny videos or photos to share with family for Christmas cards.” She paused. “Actually, that’s a win-win-win. But whatever. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried off to help.

“Justin, keep an eye on the table,” Lilly said beside him. He turned to see her pulling her phone from her purse.

“What? Where are you going?”

“This is too good. I’m going to call Cisco and find out how much longer he’s going to be. We’ve got to catch this for our piece. I’ve got no service, though. Stay here.”

She took off through the crowd and up the stairs.

Before Justin could even start to worry, she’d returned with Cisco in tow. “Look who I found talking to Sandra the macramé lady!”

“Dude,” Cisco told him. “That’s some serious knot work. She showed me her website.”

“I don’t want to know,” Justin said, holding up his hand. “It’s bad enough I now have some of her crochet.”

Cisco grinned as he readied his camera. Meanwhile, Lilly began an animated conversation with Roger and Fred. Justin wanted to listen, but he got distracted watching a group of teenagers make their way through the crowd. By the time he realized it was the church’s naive and polite youth group and not a gang of rowdy troublemakers, Lilly was approaching him holding a familiar and much-hated red velvet suit.

Crap. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” he muttered.

“Surprise! Yes, it’s a Santa suit. Roger said you can borrow it. And I think this one will fit you better than the one you have for work.” She held it up. “It belongs to the church—smells better than yours, too.” She smiled.

“Great. I’m so happy,” Justin groaned sarcastically.

“You should be. Now go.” She thrust the costume at him. “We’ve got plenty of time before dinner, and this will help my piece! Spontaneously Santa!”

“That just sounds wrong,” Justin grumbled. It was wrong.

“Think of the children, Justin! Think of the positive public relations vibe this will give. Cop Kringle responds to a call for action by suiting up at a church bazaar!” She shook the costume. “It’s like a gift! We can’t waste this opportunity.”

She was right. As much as he wanted to deny it, everything she said was true. It would put a good light on the department, and it was an opportunity to build a bridge to the community. And besides…the children.

“You’re killing me, Lilly.” He lifted the suit from her hands.

She squeaked and jumped up and down with excitement, then leaned in to give him a quick hug, leaving him flushed. “I knew you’d do it. Justin, you’re the best. Now hurry. People are starting to line up already. Pastor Pete is waiting for you in the doorway—he’ll show you where you can change.”

When he finished putting on the costume and went back to the common room, the line for the green screen was already snaking around the perimeter and clogging the traffic to the craft tables. Great. As much as he wanted to do this for Lilly—and the children—if the realization that he was trapped in a basement in a crowd before he donned the suit hadn’t heightened his stress, this was over the top.

Worse, they were all looking at him, expecting him to do something. He hoped it wasn’t talk. Justin’s throat grew dry. Not again…

“There you are.” Lilly appeared, pushing her way through the throng, her red hair shining like a beacon of light in the darkness. Justin started breathing again. “You’ve got to see this. It’s incredible.”

“What? More crafts?” He focused on the warmth of her hand on his arm, the way it made his skin tingle and his heart expand.

“No. This!” She pulled him to the front of the line and gestured at Fred and his laptop, set up on a table; attached to the camera, it transformed the green screen into a scene. Currently, it displayed a blizzard in front of a sparkling pine tree and a dancing snowman. In front of the tree was a lawn chair. “That’s where you’ll sit.”

“Well. That’s…” He didn’t have enough adjectives. “Interesting.” A lawn chair in the snow?

“I know! I mean, of course, I’ve seen this technology before, but not in this context. I think it’s charming. Fred is a wizard.”

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Fred responded absently, his eyes on the screen.

“What?” Justin frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind,” Lilly said, and patted his arm. “Come on—get into the chair.”

He let Lilly lead him to the lawn chair; as he sat, he watched her run back to peer at the computer screen. “Oh! I wish you could see this. Fred turned the chair into a throne. You look amazing.”

“Great.” Justin sighed.

“Okay, Roger,” Lilly called. “Let ’em in!”

By the end of several hours, Justin had experienced the gamut of awkward childhood moments. He’d had children cry on him, wet on him, cough on him, and sneeze all over him. He’d even—in the case of a wobbly, newborn infant—been projectile-vomited on. He’d listened to requests for all kinds of toys, and more than one pony.

It had taken every bit of his training to stay calm and to keep ho-ho-ho-ing when every nerve in his body screamed that he should run.

The thought of O’Rourke in a bunny suit sustained him. Somewhat. But mostly, the only reason he stayed in the chair was for Lilly. She and Cisco worked the crowd, interviewing families and crafters, and somehow making people laugh and enjoy their experience even more. It was a gift of hers, something he’d always appreciated. After a while, Justin discovered if he focused on her, he forgot how miserable he was—and he began to have fun, too.

As the crowd began to wind down, close to the time they needed to leave for his mom’s, Cisco approached him. “Hey,” the cameraman said with a big grin.

“If you want to sit on my lap, the answer is no,” Justin told him. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Cisco laughed. “No. It’s about that mistletoe trellis.”

Justin had forgotten about it. “Have you talked to Lilly about it?”

“Not yet. I will. She’s coming over in a minute.”

Justin’s breath caught. Not again. Not another kiss. They’d determined never to kiss again. “Do we have to?”

The cameraman frowned. “Are you serious? You don’t want to kiss her?”

“It’s not that,” Justin told him. “It’s just…” That I want to kiss her too much.

“Hey, I’ll kiss her for you. I mean, I know I shouldn’t say that. Workplace harassment and all that. But Lilly—she’s a little fox, know what I mean?”

Rage filled him. No, not rage, Justin realized suddenly. Jealousy. Crap. This couldn’t be. Lilly wasn’t his to be jealous of—or for. But still… “I do,” he said. It was another reason he shouldn’t kiss her. Even though it didn’t mean anything to anyone else—it meant everything to him.

Or more than it should, anyway.

“Okay. I’m here. What’s up?” Lilly approached them.

“You and Saint Nick over here need to get to that mistletoe thing. Go on,” Cisco told them. “Before they take it down.”

“Oh! No…that’s okay,” she said. Her eyes, big, green, and worried, met Justin’s. “We don’t need to kiss again.”

“People like it,” Cisco said.

“It’s old news. Been done already,” Lilly countered.

“Sheila says the station’s getting email. Viewers want to see more mistletoe kisses. I called her.” Cisco shrugged.

“You did not!” She put her hands on her hips. Lilly Squirrel. Justin had to look away before he burst out laughing in spite of everything. Or maybe because it made it hard for him to easily decide that no matter how much he didn’t want to kiss Lilly, he wanted to kiss her even more.

“I did. You were talking to the dog sweater lady.” Cisco raised the camera. “Come on. I’ve already talked to the YouTube dude and told him we were going to do it.”

Justin peered over at Fred, who was on his phone and gesturing wildly. Either he was having an argument with someone, or he was really excited. He wore a big smile, though, so Justin was pretty sure it was the latter situation. “Crap,” he muttered.

Lilly bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know…Justin and I have decided not to go that route, Cis—”

“I wanted to thank you!” The plant lady—Meg—appeared out of the crowd. “Fred is so excited. This will win him more subscribers. He’s been trying to get over 20,000, and this might do it!”

“Twenty thousand? People?” Justin blinked.

Meg nodded. “His channel is monetized. Every click—every watch, every share—brings in money to the charity he set up. His YouTube channel is about kids with disabilities overcoming obstacles. The money it raises goes to the nonprofit he and Roger started.” Meg leaned close. “Roger’s really smart. He creates adaptive equipment for wounded warriors. What their nonprofit does is match up the veterans with disabled kids—kind of a mentor-buddy program. Though we’re not always sure who mentors who. It’s inspiring.” She looked proud.

“It must be.” Lilly looked inspired, for sure. “Justin, we have to do it.”

He couldn’t say no. Not with everyone waiting for him to answer—including Cisco, who had the camera running, Justin was sure. If he said no, it would put a bad face on Cop Kringle. Especially because refusing made it appear as if he didn’t want to help disabled military vets and kids, too. That wouldn’t be good public relations stuff at all. In fact, if anything, that would go more viral than anything he and Lilly had done so far.

Besides, if he were caught on camera refusing to kiss Lilly, his life would become a living hell. It didn’t take much of an imagination to picture the daily hoots and catcalls from the cops in his precinct. Never mind the rest of the city.

He just hoped it was worth the hell his life had become, wanting Lilly so much and knowing he could never allow himself to have her.

“All right.”

With that, the crowd kind of swept them along, in behind the desk to the green screen—and the mistletoe trellis. Justin tried to ignore the audience lined up to watch as he got under the white plastic structure, decorated with white twinkle lights and mistletoe balls. Instead, he focused on Lilly.

She seemed just as intent, her gaze set on him. She gave him a tight smile. “This is like a setup for prom or something, isn’t it? Except, of course, you’re not wearing a tux.”

“No. I’m wearing an old fat guy suit.” Justin tugged the curly beard down under his chin. It was a much better beard than the one on the station’s Santa suit; it didn’t smell bad, for one thing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Lilly’s cheeks colored. “Remember when you went to your junior prom, and you took Abby White?”

“Barely.” He took a deep breath as she put her hands on his foam-padded hips. Justin wished he could feel them, their warmth, the way she moved them or tightened her fingers…

“Well, I do,” she breathed. “I was so jealous. I wanted you to ask me so badly.”

“You did?” Justin felt like kicking his seventeen-year-old self. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I gave you all kinds of hints. You were too dense to notice.”

“I guess I was.” What a moron. Had he been blind or just stupid? Both, probably. He’d been both.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” she said. “Because I’m here with you, and who knows where Abby is?”

Justin put his arms around her and pulled her against him; he couldn’t feel her because of the suit’s pillowed stomach. But it didn’t matter, as long as he could touch her lips with his own. One more time. “Who cares?”

He dropped his mouth to hers.

Her soft lips tasted of peppermint—of course—and chocolate. He pulled her as close as the padded suit would allow. This was it—the last time he’d ever kiss Lilly. Justin lifted his mouth away slightly—only slightly—so that her soft exhale curled over his cheeks and chin. Once, twice, three times, he brushed his lips against hers, a soft caress. She opened her lips. Just this time. This last time. Make it count. Their tongues tangled. Tingles spread over his body; he pulled her closer. She melted into him and he into her. He never wanted to let it end.

All too soon, he became aware of the applause and the sounds of the people in the basement common room. He opened his eyes and ended the kiss.

His heart cried out. But there was nothing he could do. Except what he knew was the right thing. Justin stepped back and let Lilly go.