Page 40 of Grinch Girl

Chapter Twelve

“You’re absolutely sureyou want to do the rest of the editing yourself?” I asked Sean as he stood to leave my apartment at midnight. “Because I’m happy to help you finish.”

If he needed help editing, I wouldnotbe available for a late-night tryst with Nate. Which was clearly the smarter course of action.

Even if my entire body desperately wanted to be available.

“I’ve got it,” Sean said cheerfully, crouching down to give Bruce his usual goodbye pets. Agitated, Bruce wound himself around Sean’s legs and huffed out an anxious bark.

“Another couple of hours and I’ll have the new episode ready to post,” he said. The control freak in me wanted to argue, but his self-confident nod shut down any protest I would have mounted. Sean really seemed to be flourishing in his role, and I didn’t want to take that away from him. I may have bullied him into helping originally, but now? He was enjoying this—and he was doing a great job. I had no idea what Sean’s long-term ambitions were or if he even had long-term ambitions, but maybe this wacky experience would be some sort of résumé-builder for him.

I wondered how tonight’s episode would appeal toSingle Bellsfans. Would they roll their eyes at hyper-competitive Bella and Michael? Would they hope that Jim and Nicole were on their way to reconciliation? Hopefully, they weren’t too hungry for footage of me and Nate, because there wasn’t much. Sean and I had interspersed cuts of our silly bowling antics for comicrelief, but luckily none of the cameramen had caught our hot-eyed stares or dirty-talking whispers.

I want to take you, specifically you, to bed and make you scream because you like it so much.

I shivered at the memory, so visibly that Sean straightened up from the dog and asked, “Do you want me to turn up your thermostat on my way out?”

God no. I was still so warm from earlier in the evening. I was already welcoming the blast of frigid night air that would howl in as Sean left. “No thanks. See you in the morning!”

As soon as the door shut behind him, I raced to the mirror. My lipstick was long gone, and it seemed a little ridiculous to put on a fresh coat at this hour. Besides, it would just get all over Nate’s face, wouldn’t it? I fluffed up my hair at the roots and put my nose down my shirt to make sure I didn’t smell as sweaty as I felt.

Then I paced between my kitchen and bedroom eleven times. What did “later” mean? Had we missed our window? Was I supposed to go over to his place? Or had he been watching and listening to see when Sean left so he would know when to come over here?

“This is ridiculous,” I said to Bruce.

Instead of just staring back at me with wise, brown eyes, Bruce whined and scuttled himself backward, lopsided and sideways. I frowned down at him. “You OK, buddy?”

Knock, knock.

Knuckles on wood. A very quiet tapping on the door. So soft that if I hadn’t been half expecting them, I wouldn’t have heard.

Discretion, then. He wasn’t announcing to Sean or anyone else in the building that he was coming over. I certainly appreciated that, but if he delivered on his promise from earlier in the evening, the secret wouldn’t be ours for long. These apartments had very thin walls.

I crossed the room in two strides, pulled open the door, and silently gestured him in.

Nate waited until I closed the door again before speaking. “Hey.” The cold air from outside clung to his T-shirt. He hadn’t bothered to put on a coat for the one-second walk. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was as warm as I was.

“Hey,” I returned awkwardly.

Oh God, now that he was actually standing here, in my apartment, how did we regain our momentum from earlier? How did we get back to the place of hot staring and filthy mouths? What if the chemistry had been just a flash in the pan? A moment that had passed us by?

“I brought you something,” he said, holding up a padded shipping envelope. “I ordered it for you a couple of days ago, and it was waiting on my doorstep tonight.”

He’d ordered something for me? Even before our impromptu make-out session the night before?

I put my hands on my hips and looked down at the package suspiciously. Greta always gave me a gift for my birthday in July, but other than that, I didn’t receive many presents.

Of course, maybe this wasn’t a gift at all. “What is it?”

“Open it and see, J-Bird,” he said. His tone was mocking, and I relaxed. If we weren’t in crazy-lust anymore, I’d be happy to fall back into snarky, insulting each other mode.

I took the light package from his hands and tore into it, my eyebrows scrunching together as I pulled out a small bottle. “Fury Sauce?”

He nodded, grinning. “It’s my favorite local hot sauce I’ve found in Chicago. It’s from a ramen shop in my neighborhood.” He held up a warning finger. “Upon first taste, you’re going to think it’s not so bad. But then the habanero peppers sneak up on you.”

His grin went wry at the edges. “It’s a kind of heat that stays with you.”

I couldn’t fight the delighted smile that broke out over my entire face. He’d brought me hot sauce. He was insinuating that the sneaky heat was likeme.

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