Page 42 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
Sounded like a sweet spot to me, too.
“They’ll be at the Christmas party tomorrow night,” Justin continued. “You and Winter are coming, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you bringing her as your date?”
“Will you leave that shit alone?”
He gave me a playful shove, but because of our size difference, he was the one who lost his footing and stumbled. He regained his balance with some grumbling. “Dude, just buy her a nice dress and show her a nice time. She’s away from home for the holidays and this party is going to be something else. She’s the one who put in all the work for the décor. Why not make her feel like asomeoneat the party? Introduce her to some of the clients. She might land future gigs from this.”
I hadn’t thought about it that way and felt a tinge of guilt. I’d been too consumed thinking about how dangerous it would be to see her in a gown. Slowly but surely, the girl was becoming my kryptonite. Listening to her pitch to the Veltons this afternoon had been a huge turn-on. Sure, a Christmas tree decorating pitch wasn’t exactly sexy in standard terms, but seeing her step into her role with so much confidence and own the room?
Yeah. That got my blood rushing.
“A dress, huh?” I asked.
“Anicedress,” Justin pressed. “Something that will set her apart from the other guests. Try that bridal boutique that sells special event dresses. Isn’t that where all your staff buys their gowns for your office events? The real bougie ones?”
I shrugged.
We walked in silence for a little while longer, and darkness closed in around us before the house came into view. I smelled Maurice’s cooking in the air, rich and fragrant, and Justin let out a low, growling, pathetic sound beside me.
“You can stay,” I said.
He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “You’re a good friend. What’s that Frenchman making tonight?”
Chuckling, I let us into the house and poured us each a glass of whiskey. We brought them into the living room, and Justin started talking about the prospective bed and breakfast buyers before his eyes landed on evidence I’d forgotten to tidy up.
Me and Winter’s wine glasses from last night.
He picked one up. “What’s this?”
“A wine glass.”
“No shit. Whose is it?”
I settled into my usual spot across from the fireplace. “Go on. Play detective. I’m sure you’ll riddle it out.”
“You had Winter up here last night. Drinking wine?” He clicked his tongue and let out a belly laugh. “You naughty dog. What have you been keeping from me? Are you two, you know?” He intwined his fingers. “Coitus-ing?”
“Dude.”
“Dude!” He fell into the opposite corner of the sofa from me, threw back a mouthful of whiskey, and set his glass down on a coaster. “I need details. You were playing coy before, but I should have known you were keeping secrets. North, ever the gentleman, never one to kiss and tell. How did it happen?”
I rolled my eyes. “We didn’t have sex.”
“Bullshit.”
“We didn’t,” I said simply.
“You want me to believe you had a girl who looks like her in your living room, drinking wine, late at night, andnothinghappened? Give me a break. I saw you two this morning. There was tension. And don’t even get me started about the passing glances you share or the way you stare at each other when you know the other isn’t looking.”
That was news to me.
Had Winter been staring at me when my back was turned? I’d certainly been staring at her.
I massaged my temple. “If you must know, something did happen, but we didn’t have sex. We fooled around.”
