Page 68 of Mistletoe Misses
“Amen to that.”
Once the first window is finished, we break for lunch and settle on ordering delivery.
Maddox:Are you free for a private lunch date? I’ll bring sandwiches.
“Why are you blushing?” Kaitlyn asks, surprising me, and I jostle my phone. The rest of the store had faded away at the first sight of Maddox’s name. “Is that from Hot Santa?”
“Yes. I think I’ll change his name in my contacts to that for the holidays.”
“Wait until he stuffs your chimney with his big—”
“Kait!”
“What? I was going to say bag of presents.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?”
With Kaitlyn looking over my shoulder, I roll my eyes and re-read his text.
“Go. I’ll order a pizza and keep working.”
“I can’t let you do all the work.”
“Yeah, you can. Santa is too hot to ignore, and you’d just be in my way.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I know you remember your so-called scratchy drawing. Compare that to this glorious art.” She fans a hand across the window, her face alight with awe over her superior talent before she comes back to me, expecting the same.
I poke out a hip, my hand perching there as I glare at her. “If I didn’t know how selfless you’re being, I might take offense.”
“Hey, I’m just happy one of us is getting some, keeping us afloat. I almost killed myself during the last four years of your excruciating sex ban, trying to hold us above water.”
“What does that mean?”
She points a long, red fingernail at me, and I have the feeling I’m about to regret asking that question.
“Remember all those late-night talks about my escapades in the city and all the juicy details I had for you when I got back?”
“Yeah.” The word draws out in way too many syllables, and I wait for the bomb to hit.
“That was keeping you wet and ready for this moment.”
“Ugh.” I stalk off through the store to find a place to respond to Maddox’s text in private. “Now, I’m offended.”
“No, you’re not. You’re excited to be finally carrying a load. Or you will be when his big bag of presents arrives.”
Trying not to think about making my own late-night juicy details, I type my response five times before getting my fingers to work without typos.
Me:Name the time and place.
My heart feels like it’s in a jump rope contest with my stomach as I await his response.
Maddox:Your apartment. 20 minutes.
Feeling bold, I add a little spice to my reply.
