Page 7 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
His eyes warm as his breath brushes my cheek, one big hand carefully working the cheap plastic out of my curl. My stranger’s touch is gentle and more than enough to fry what’s left of my working brain cells.
What is happening?
“There,” he murmurs as he tugs it free and holds the fake leaves over my head.
“Umm... I don’t kiss strangers in drug store checkout lines, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I whisper as my pulse pounds in my head.
I mean, maybe I could . . .
If I were going to, it would definitely be him.
“We can fix that.” Sexy stranger’s grin sharpens, and before I know what’s happening, he plucks the diapers and tampons free from my hands and tosses them on the counter. “She’s with me.”
I’m what?
I look from my stranger to the cashier, who beams like she’s watching a Hallmark Christmas movie come to life.
I, however, am plotting his murder. Sexy murder. With candy canes. Sharp ones. And possibly some orgasms before Ioff him. “I am not with him,” I growl and grab my goodies back. “And these are mine.”
He pulls a card from his wallet and grabs my goods right back out of my hands. “Exactly. With me.”
“Oh wow. Is this like your meet cute?” the cashier asks, and this time, I think I actually growl. Apparently, someone’s been reading too many romance books. “That’s so sweet of you.”
“Sweet?” I whisper. “Hijacking my dignity in aisle five is not sweet.” I narrow my eyes on the sexy stranger, who’s name I still don’t know. “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own tampons. And. These. Aren’t. Even. For. Me.”
No clue why I feel the need to announce that to anyone within a five-mile radius, but I do it anyway.
The way this man smiles makes me think he doesn’t do it often. Like he’s surprising himself and that somehow makes his smile bigger. “I don’t doubt that one little bit. How about you consider this an investment in future peace treaties.”
I give up.
I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. “Peace treaties? Are we going to war?”
“Not war. Just preemptively garnering favor for the next time you stalk me. Or knock over another Christmas display.”
Next time?
I glare as the cashier tosses everything into one bag while humming “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” like we’re her favorite TV couple.
This unbelievably infuriating man taps his card and pockets it again before I can catch his name.
“What just happened?” I mutter to myself as we walk through the automatic doors onto the snowy sidewalk. “Who are you?”
“Your hero?” he offers, way too cocky, and I want to hit him or kiss him.
Pretty sure the kissing would be more fun, but you never know.
“Don’t think this makes us even,” I blurt out, totally off-kilter with no clue what to do about it. How I got here. Or what his name even is.
Sexy stranger, golden gladiator, hot daddy laughs, and that sound... It warms my insides before a blast of cold air smacks me in the face, and my cell phone rings with the ringtone Hadley programmed for Ryleigh as I dig my stuff out of the bag he’s holding.
Reality is calling, and she’s a bitch.
Not my sister. Just reality.
Well really, Ryleigh is too.
“Thanks for the tampons, diaper guy.” I wiggle my fingers and enjoy the small smile playing on his lips. “And for the record, we’re still strangers. Future peace treaties be damned.”
