Mistletoe and Mr. Right Read Online Free Page A

through the sheer curtains framing my window before I’m ready, but at least last night’s storm has dissipated. My body craves coffee, even knowing it’s probably going to be tea from here on out, which is better than nothing when it comes down to a choice between chugging caffeinated tea or suffering withdrawals.
    I put on a bra and tug on a pair of jeans, then grab a sweater before peeking out into the hallway. The quiet in the house makes the squeaks of my boots on the hardwood floors sound like cymbals. Even so, I make it out to the front porch without running into anyone else, and I breathe the crisp sea air deep into my lungs.
    This morning, Ireland greets me like I imagined—a thick mist drapes the boulder-dotted shoreline like a shawl as sunlight winks off of the crashing gray waves. The rain turned to snow sometime during the night, so there’s still no green, but the pristine white blankets covering the hills add the perfect ambiance to the late-December morning. A white Christmas in Ireland. This trip
can’t
be a mistake.
    The door creaks open behind me and a sleep-tousled Brennan steps up beside me, a colorful, handmade afghan wrapped tight around his shoulders. Pieces of his hair stick up in chunks and there are reddened creases on his cheeks, but when he smiles at me, there’s no one more beautiful in the entire world.
    â€œMorning, chicken.” His brogue thickens enough when he’s sleepy to trip me up, but I’ve gotten used to the nickname, which weirded me out at first. Apparently it’s normal to him.
    â€œMorning.” I lean in for a kiss, not caring whether either of us has morning breath. We dispensed with that formality a few weeks after we started sleeping over. He lapses into silence, reigniting my lingering doubts. “Are you mad?”
    â€œAbout you showing up?” He doesn’t look at me at first, choosing to squint toward the sea instead. An eternity passes before he shrugs, turns, and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Nah. I mean, I was pretty surprised and my mam’s a planner like you, so she might have a panic attack, but it’s good to see you.”
    â€œAlso we’ve been together four months now. It’s time I met your family.”
    â€œAnd you took the initiative, as usual.” He smiles to soften the judgment in his words, then leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. “How can I get mad at you for being Jessica?”
    And that’s that. It’s so Brennan; he’s entirely go-with-the-flow and nothing bothers him. Ever.
    Which, honestly, is starting to bother
me.
Because if he doesn’t care about anything, what does that say about his attitude toward me or the potential for our relationship?
    Chris would roll her eyes and tell me to shut up. That we’ve only been together four months and we’re twenty years old, so who cares if we don’t know right now if we’ll get married. If it’s forever.
    I look at my handsome Irish boyfriend who does his best to understand me, and also happens to be dynamite in bed, and decide to listen to her. Try to relax and explore, to revel in the new experience.
    â€œYou guys, Mam is going to beat you both if you don’t get in here for breakfast,” Molly chirps, sticking a head full of frizzy strawberry curls out into the morning. She eyes us. “Are you two being gross or what?”
    â€œNot as gross as your breath,” Brennan retorts, tossing me a wink before chasing his sister into the house.
    I take one last look around the magnificent scene before heading into the dining room, feeling better about this whole thing. Brennan and I might not be there yet, but I still think a holiday with his family, in his country, will make him realize he wants to hang on to me.
    The family gathers around the rough, pitted table, along with an addition from last night. An elderly man perches on one end, the sun glinting off the age spots