Page 38 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“I don’t know. Something grim. Black. Maybe ‘I lift motorcycles to relax.’ Not… holiday-themed.” She sits, threading her needle, cheeks pink.
I’m immune to nothing. Not her blush. Not the way she bites back her smile. Not the fact that she’s sewing this stupid costume like it’s a sacred mission.
“So,” I say casually, “what’s your underwear style?”
“Normal.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“Absolutely not. ‘Normal’ could mean anything. Polka dots. Flowers. Dinosaurs.”
Her lips twitch. “I’m not telling you.”
I lean a little closer, just enough to make her breath hitch. “C’mon. Professional curiosity.”
“Yeah, right,” she states with a cheeky grin.
“I’m a dedicated researcher.” I gesture vaguely. “I investigate… patterns.”
She tries not to laugh and fails. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“That sounds like a yes to dinosaurs.”
She stabs the needle through the fabric with unnecessary force. “It’s not dinosaurs.”
“Unicorns?”
She tightens her lips like she’s trying not to smile. “Are you finished?”
“Not even close.”
She hands me the tights, brushing my fingers accidentally, though it feels intentional enough to unleash something hungry under my ribs.
“There,” she says. “Patch is visible, but it’ll do.” She stands, dusting imaginary lint from her elf dress. “Try not to rip them again.”
“No promises.”
Her gaze meets mine, a flick of mischief. “Didn’t think so.”
And just like that, the room feels too small. Too warm. Because she’s still close, smelling like sin, and I suddenly want to know every ridiculous, adorable secret she has, including what she’s wearing under that dress.
I take the tights from her, pull them back on. The fabric is snug, but the repair holds when I test it by doing several squats.
When I turn back around, Hannah is standing, and the space between us is maybe eighteen inches. Close enough that I can see every spot of glitter on her cheeks in detail, smell her scent even stronger now that we’re alone.
Her eyes travel up from my torso to my chest, and I watch her pupils dilate slightly.
“You know,” I say quietly, “those D&D people were really onto something with the whole elf-fantasy thing.”
She blinks, refocusing on my face. “Perhaps.”
I step closer, and she doesn’t back away. It takes everything I have not to close the remaining distance and kiss her. “Hannah. Did you ever think you’d find your scent match at a petting zoo?”
