Page 5 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
I don’t trust many people, but I do trust Luke.
Maybe I could trust his sister.
“Does she even want to nanny?” I ask as I grab the back of my neck, trying to push away the immediate anxiety the thought of leaving Sophie with anyone other than Emmie brings.
“You’d want your sister living with Monroe and taking care of his kid, Chase?” Jamie asks as he throws on his coat.
“I’d trust Camden with any of my sisters, Murphy. You—not so much.”
Murphy shakes his head. “I’m a good guy, asshole.”
“Pretty sure you meant you’re an asshole,” Luke claps back, and Jamie thinks about it for a minute before he shifts, unbothered.
“You guys want to grab something to eat?” Luke asks, but I shake my head as Jamie tells him no. “Whatever. I’m going to West End. Think about it, Camden. My sister might be an option, or at the very least, someone who can fill in, in a pinch. At least for now, until you find someone more permanent.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, not sure whether I will or not.
It might be time to reach back out to the agency.
HOLLY
It’s all fun and games until Santa sees your search history.
—Holly’s Secret Thoughts
“Yes, Ryleigh, I got them.” Sarcasm drips thick as honey from my lips as I silently tell myself to tone down the bitch for a hot minute and grab the jumbo box of tampons she asked for when I said I was running to the pharmacy. Sixty-five thousand dollars in student loan debt later, and I’m a glorified gofer. My college adviser would be so proud.
“Rainey wants you to grab a thing of diapers too, Holls,” Ryleigh adds as the chaos in the background gets louder. “Gotta go.”
The call ends, and I stare at my phone.
She just hung up on me.
“Sounds like you better get diapers,” a deep, gravelly voice teases, and I close my eyes and count to ten, hoping the universewill swallow me whole before I open them again and find myself face-to-chest with a beautifully broad one... One that’s stretching the seams of a dark-blue hoodie. And it only takes a quick glance down for my mouth to water. Mr. Broad Chest is wearing gray sweats. The good kind. The sexy kind. The kind that makes me think of book boyfriends, naughty actions, and spicy scenes.
Yes, please.
My gaze snaps up. And up. And up.
And . . . oh my garland . . .
“You . . .”
It’s him.
The baby-wearing-gladiator-sized man from Sweet Temptations, sans baby.
A pack of diapers in one hand, a bottle of medicine in the other, and a sexy smirk tugging at his lips.
Could someone please explain to me why that’s such a potent combination?
“It’s not nice to stalk people.”
I smile because sarcasm is my weapon of choice for offense and defense. I was never the biggest sibling, or the meanest, but according to my family, I can wield my words like a weapon of mass destruction.
What can I say?
It’s a gift.
