Page 10 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
“I’m not changing him,” I reply defensively.“I’m giving him ...wardrobe direction.Just a few pieces.A Henley.A well-fitted flannel.Maybe one of those jackets that say, ‘I can chop firewood and understand emotional nuance.’”
His mouth twitches.“So, costume design.Got it.”
“This is just prep,” I insist.“In case things go well.”
He takes a step closer, eyes narrowing just enough to make my heart hiccup.“You do realize this is going to bite you in the ass, right?”
I lift a brow, swallowing around a grin.“You sound oddly invested in the fate of my ass.Why are you still here?”
His gaze flicks lower for half a second—just long enough—before he catches himself.The corner of his mouth lifts—slow, smug, and clearly enjoying this.
“Because watching you juggle this delusion is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.”He leans in, voice a notch deeper.“And if it does bite you in the ass ...don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
My throat dries.My brain short-circuits.
He steps back, jaw flexing once like he’s reeling it all back in.
“You’re wrong,” I argue.
And then he growls.
Not a full-on animal growl—more like a frustrated, under-his-breath,ugh,as if the conversation derailed somewhere between sarcasm and something else.
Something uncomfortably hot.
I blink, and that’s when he hands me a box of chocolate.“Here, this will go well with your wine and your delusions.”He turns and stalks off without another word.
I stare after him, then at the box, and I have only one thought running laps in my head: I really need to stop drinking wine while emotionally improvising and flirting with the human equivalent of a brooding red flag wrapped in charm.
Do I want to yell something like, “It won’t bite me in the ass.You’ll see, this will be great.”
Yes, but I don’t.I’ll let him eat his words because ...did he bring me chocolates?
Why?
Instead of thinking about my neighbor, I go back to my call.Mom needs a little more convincing that I’m not a trainwreck and that Chad is the best thing that’s happened to me since I graduated summa cum laude from undergrad.He’ll see ...
In the meantime, I go back to my call.At least I have chocolate to make this more bearable, and maybe with a mouthful, I will stop making up so much shit, or I might get in trouble.
Nah, I’m too good at this.
ChapterFour
Soren
My neighbornext door is the human embodiment of a train wreck wearing lip gloss.Most of the time, it’s not even something she does—it’s like bad luck follows her with the commitment of a golden retriever.There’s this invisible gray cloud hovering over her head, constantly raining and throwing the occasional lightning bolt for dramatic effect.
And still ...she smiles.Like the sun is shining just for her, even if the rest of us are standing in the damn downpour, you can’t see the rays, but she acts like they’re there warming her skin, lighting her way, making everything golden.
It’s infuriating.
And, if I’m being honest?Kind of magnetic.
Of course, there are those times when she creates chaos all on her own—like when she decided to become a pet sitter.She spent more time patching drywall and repainting fences than actually making money.At least, that’s how it looked from my side of the yard.
Then, a month ago, she started another thing.I’m not even talking about the bakery—which, for the record, I think is going to kick ass.
Winnifred bakes like a goddess.Not that I’d ever say that to her face.Especially not when she’s shoving one of her “flavor of the day” test subjects under my nose with that hopeful glint in her eye.
