Page 55 of Welcome Home for Christmas
She blinked, looked at the newspaper, and then surprised him by laughing. “I’ve never gotten an excuse as good as that one before.”
“So, am I forgiven?”
A sigh crossed her lips. “Last night sucked and it’s all because of you. But it’s not your fault, I guess. No need to apologize. You did the right thing.”
Troy scooted his chair closer. “I’m sorry last night sucked. But I’m all yours all day. I’ll be Santa to your Mrs. Claus. Pretend boyfriend to your family. And whatever else you need me to be.” He scooted his chair again until it was touching hers; his body angled toward her.
Her gaze slid toward him as she looked at him under her strawberry-colored lashes. “I was hoping to wake up with you in bed this morning.”
“It’s still morning,” he said, voice lowering. “I’m still me.”
“Hmm.”
“And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make up for your sucky night last night.” He ran a hand up her thigh, watching her react to his touch. He’d never tire of that. “What do you say?”
“I say Saturday mornings are for sleeping in.” She grabbed his hand and stood, pulling him back to her bedroom.
—
Sex. More sex. And then Troy took her out to breakfast. Her Saturday was looking up.
Allison stared at Troy across their table at the Seaside Café. She’d gotten only a bite of the cinnamon roll he’d brought her, and after their morning activities, she was starving. Her stomach rumbled as she picked up her fork and started slicing into the stack of pancakes, covered with fresh fruit and drizzled with cherry syrup, in front of her. “All the toys are wrapped and have each child’s name on them,” she told him. “All you have to do is listen to their requests and hand each child their gift. Every kid loves Santa.”
Troy nodded. His plate was a meat-lover’s dream. Bacon, ham, sausage. “I’m more worried about going to your folks’ house tonight.”
She didn’t have any help to offer him there. Her mother had already texted her three times this morning. She’d set Troy’s place setting right beside them at the dinner table. Allison could only imagine the interrogation that would be happening over dinner. “It’ll be fine,” she lied.
“Can I win her over with coffee and a cinnamon bun, too, you think?”
She jabbed her fork into a bite of pancake. “My mother is a health-food nut. And she doesn’t believe in coffee.”
“I’m screwed.” He laughed.
“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what’s wrong with you?” she said, lifting her coffee to her mouth. Because he seemed just about perfect from where she was sitting.
Troy lifted his gaze. “First off, I’m a guy. We’re all pigs.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Kind of.” He bit through another slice of bacon. Chewed. “Why don’t you tell me what was wrong with all the other guys you’ve dated?”
James crossed her mind. “Pigs. All of them.” She shrugged. “But maybe it’s me that’s defective.”
Troy tapped the table in front of her to get her attention.
She looked up.
“It’s not you. I guarantee it.”
“Maybe I’m boring, like milk toast,” she said, repeating James’s words.
“I happen to like milk toast. And I find you fascinating. Especially in bed.” He winked.
She quirked her mouth to the side and looked at him. “I went to a bar last night after you stood me up. An ex of mine was there.”
The muscles visibly bunched along his jawline. “Sorry about that. Did he bother you?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”
