Page 38 of Secret Santa

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” He grinned wider.

“I can’t wear that,” I said, and he laughed.

“Why not? I mean, unless you don’t actually like my sweater?” He held his arms out so I could get a better look.

It really was awful.

“No, no,” I said hastily. “It looks…nice. Warm.” He snorted.

“Very warm,” he agreed. “You’ll love it.”

“Aiden,” I groaned. “We can’t wear matching sweaters in public.” He paused, lifting his brows.

“Why can’t we?”

“It’s embarrassing!” I said, and his brows rose higher. “We can’t be that couple. Come on.”

“How about you come on,” he said, and I scowled. “Loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”

“I have plenty of fun that doesn’t involve embarrassing myself in public.” He shook his head.

“You got stressed when I put your red pen in the wrong place.” He gave me a look, and I huffed out a breath.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to be organized,” I muttered. “What does being organized have to do with fun?”

“It doesn’t.” He turned and walked toward the stairs. I set my mug on a hall table as we passed and followed him up the steps.

“Then why are you making me do it?”

“Making you?” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’re sounding like I’m torturing you.”

“It will be torture,” I groaned. He stopped when we got to his bedroom door. “Please.”

“What are you worried about?” he asked. He was studying me far too closely for my liking. Why had I brought that stupid sweater up?

“Everyone will laugh.”

“So?” I gave him an exasperated look.

“You can’t seriously be okay with people laughing at you,” I said, and he shrugged.

“Your opinion is the only one I care about.” My stomach tightened at his words. “My opinion should be the only one you care about.”

“It’s not that easy,” I countered.

“Of course it is. Just worry about me and forget about everyone else.” He grinned as he shoved his door open.

I followed him in and paused by the bed, watching him stride toward the closet. “What are you doing?”

“Hanging up your clothes.” He shot me a look over his shoulder, a mischievous one that had my body heating. “And getting your sweater.” I groaned again, and he laughed, the sound muffled from the other room. “You’ll love it!” he called.

“I’m sure.” I ran my fingers through my hair as I sighed. I was still tired. Even though I’d slept longer than I had in months, I still didn’t feel rested enough.

“Here we are.” He stepped out of the closet and held up an identical sweater. I just stared at it. When he got to me, he paused, his smile falling. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a little tired,” I yawned. “Nothing a little coffee won’t fix.” He gave me a worried look.

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