Page 2 of The Bad Boy's Secret Santa

“I’ll do it.”

Grandma squeezes me in a hug, her grip surprisingly strong. “This makes me so happy.”

“But I still get to draw a name?”

“You get to go first,” she says, holding out the bucket to me.

Looking away from the bucket—I don’t want to risk cheating. Not that I even knowhowto cheat at this—I dip my hand into the sea of wooden tokens. I don’t want to rush this very important step, so I take my time combing through the options until one settles in my palm. My hand tingles.

Overactive imagination or fate?

Fate.Definitely fate.

“Nine,” Grandma says, her expression glowing.

“Now you just match the number to the gift bag, right?”

“First, dear, you must fill out this questionnaire. It’s the most important step of the entire process. Remember that when you’re the one handing them out.”

I scan the list of random questions that might’ve been pulled out of a first date questionnaire. First car: 2004 Oldsmobile Alero.Have you been arrested: no arrests to date.Okay, there was that one time Ialmostgot arrested.Doesn’t count. I keep scanning the questions and scrawling quick answers. Favorite Christmas tradition: The annual tree lighting ceremony.

I glance up with a couple questions to go. “What’s this for, anyway?”

“To help plan an even better event next year.”

“Why do you need to know if I’ve committed any felonies?”

“Would you want a convicted felon to beyourSecret Santa?” Grandma holds out a silver and gold gift bag with glittery greenpolka dots to me. The number nine dangles from a tag. “We’ll go over the questionnaires when the event is over. It’ll make more sense then.”

OMG. This is it. The moment I find out who my true love is. Fingers shaking just a bit, I start to open my gift bag, but Grandma clamps a hand on my wrist.

“Don’t open it here.” Though her voice is still sweet as ever, there’s a firmness in her tone that I know better than to test. Lesson learned when The Asshat dared me to climb Grandma’s apple tree after she told us not to. Huh.Where did that memory come from?

Grandma squeezes my wrist, refocusing me back to the moment. “Everything you need is inside the bag. You must emphasize that the rules are very important. Especially rule number one.”

“Which is?”

“Not to share your name withanyone. Not a soul.”

“Not even you?” I find this hard to believe, because she should already know who I got.

“Not even me.”

“You really don’t know?—”

The door to the community center opens, and my heart gently pounds. This is it. It’s beginning.

Chapter Two

PIPER

As the first official participant arrives at the community center to draw a name for the Secret Santa event, I tuck my gift bag into the holiday tote I lovingly call a purse and slip it under the table. I want to appear as professional as possible, despite how hard my heart is pounding with the combination of nerves and excitement.

Grandma nods at the newcomer. “Give it a go, dear.” I send her a nervous glance, and she adds, “I’ll be right here to help you. But you’re ready.”

Thankfully, the first person to show up is Addison, one of my four-flex neighbors and close friends. I let out a silent sigh of relief. It helps take some of the pressure off. But then I remember that she was personally invited too. This matters more than Addison realizes.

“Addison, hey!” I wave at her, perhaps a little too eagerly.Be cool, Piper.I drop my hand. “Guess who’s in training?”

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