Page 63 of Mistletoe Misses
“It’s okay. I understand,” she says sweetly, and I believe her.
“Actually, I would like to if you’re up for it.”
“Of course I am. You never have to ask or wonder.”
“I’d like to talk.”
Amusement hums in her throat. “Does that mean you’re all kissed out?”
“Not where you’re concerned.”
“Good to know.” Slowly, she inserts the key into the deadbolt with a smile, sending a streak of desire straight through my mid-section and into regions I shouldn’t be thinking about.
We walk up the back staircase, and once inside her apartment, I set Trixie on the living room chair. Exhausted from her adventures, she spins in a few circles and falls into immediate slumber.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“A beer sounds great if you have it.”
“I bought a six-pack earlier this week to be prepared for this moment.” With an adorable wink, she dives into the refrigerator and joins me on the couch soon after, passing over one of the bottles she carried over.
Following a long pull, I start at ground zero. “When you were talking with the gang, you—”
“The gang?” She giggles, knowing exactly who I’m referring to.
The question was asked just to get a rise out of me, and it worked. I’m back to teetering on an unsteady foundation with the purpose of this conversation coming up next.
“They were obviously a biker gang—threatening or not.”
“Got it. Please continue.”
I catch her grinning behind the bottle and wish my man card hadn’t been ripped to pieces by this whole Trixie conundrum.
“Anyway, I can’t stop thinking about you calling me your boyfriend. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that grace your lips.”
“Oh.” Sensing my unease, she sets her drink on the coffee table and rests an elbow on the back cushion.
I know she wishes for me to be excited instead of freaked out, but I can only give her honesty. We deserve that much while we’re wading through this strange new relationship territory together.
“I was acting,” she explains. “And that title was a lot simpler than the complicated truth.”
“What truth?”
“That we’re exes trying to determine if a second chance is in the cards as we take baby steps toward something neither of us can see from where we’re at in this non-committed arrangement.”
“That is complicated.”
“See? He didn’t need to get all up in our business, so I shortened it to something he would understand to get us out of there. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
I considered my initial physical reaction to the idea and how I feel now that it’s settled in my overworked brain. The before and after perspectives are night and day. “It just stunned me at first.”
“And now?”
Wading through my thoughts, I take in my view, and she does the same to me. The soft glow of the lamp on her long waves has me itching to trail my fingers through them again. Her eyes, tinted navy with desire, watch me as I reach for the lock of hair falling over her shoulder.
“I think …” I pause to brush a thumb across her cheek, loving the pink tint my touch puts there. “I’d like to try on the title for a bit.”
The confession brings a satisfied smile to her glossy lips before she tucks it away to continue setting up our new arrangement. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while, but should we keep it secret while you see how it fits on you? Less pressure that way.”
