“Dare I ask why Alex is going around waving a plant over people’s heads?”
I rolled my eyes. In the corner, Alex was making his way around the common room, going from girl to girl with a sprig of mistletoe. He’d tucked some into his belt, too. Typical.
I sighed. “It’s kind of a Christmas tradition. It’s called mistletoe.”
Kale glanced across the room, watching Alex with a sour expression. He didn’t look happy. He’d been slightly overwhelmed when Mom went over all the holiday lore and traditions. His biggest issue? Santa Claus. He wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of some guy in a red suit and fur sneaking into the house while we slept. It took me an hour to convince him it was just a story for children. “Another tradition? I have to wear plants for Christmas? You didn’t mention that…”
I took his hand and pulled him close. “You’re not supposed to wear it.” Tilting my head, I pointed above us to the small sprig hanging from the doorframe. “It’s a decoration. There’s a long story behind it, but the short answer is, when someone stands beneath it, you’re supposed to give them a kiss.”
Kale scanned the room. When his gaze fell on Dax, sitting on the couch, he frowned. Above his head there was a large sprig hanging from the light fixture. I’d probably gone a little overboard by hanging it in every room of the cabin… “I like Dax, but I don’t think it would be appropriate—”
The mental picture of Kale awkwardly planting one on Dax’s shiny head brought a giggle to my lips. For a second—a single, evil second—I thought about not telling him the truth. The look on Dax’s face alone would almost be worth it. But I wasn’t that mean.
Well, maybe I was—but not to Kale.
“Yeah… I think you can safely pass on that.”
He looked relieved. “So I have to kiss someone standing under the plant, but I get to pick and choose?”
“Well, sort of. I think I explained it badly. Let me try again.” I let go of his hand and took a step away. “You’re required to kiss someone when they’re standing under mistletoe—but only if that someone is me.”A slow smile bloomed across Kale’s lips as he came a little closer. “You’re standing underneath it now.”
“Huh. Will you look at that…”
He looked from the plant to me, grinning. “So, tradition?”
I nodded. Even now, after all this time, the thought of Kissing Kale still made the butterflies dance spastic in my stomach.
“Finally,” he sighed as he closed the distance between us. “A tradition I can agree with.”
*From me and mine, to you and yours—have a wonderful Holiday season and a fantastic New Year!