Page 34 of Mistletoe Face Off

“Right.”

“Overstepping again?”

“No, it’s fine.”

I’m not sure if it is, so I move the conversation on. “About the argument. Abby didn't tell us what we should argue about, but the way I see it, it shouldn't be anything personal.”

“I totally agree. What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could run with a Christmas theme. Last time was about me wearing a Santa costume and not telling you who I was.”

“Oh, I remember,” she replies with a glint in her eye.

“This time, I figured we could argue about a super contentious topic. The best way to unwrap a present.”

She lifts a brow. “Could you even make an argument about that.”

I’m enjoying how easy it is to talk to her. It’s like we’re back in the Community Center, chatting and getting along.

“Oh, yeah. I figured you're a careful present unwrapping kind of person. You probably even keep the paper to reuse. Am I right?” I ask.

“You could be.”

“That's a yes. Me? I'm more of a rip into it kinda guy.”

Her eyes dance as she shakes her head. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“Because I’m so manly?” I ask with a grin.

“Something like that,” she replies with a laugh.

We move back into the view of others and I ask, “Ready?”

“To argue over the correct way to unwrap presents?” She shrugs. “Sure.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, raising my voice. “Life's too short for wasting all that time carefully unwrapping a present! I'm not a surgeon. I'm a hockey player, and I want to see what's insidenow!”

“That's ridiculous. You're as impatient as a toddler. You are a grown up, aren't you?” she spits back.

“Listen, sweetheart. As far as I'm concerned, the wrapping paper's fate is sealed the moment it’s taped up. I'm just fulfilling its destiny.”

“Its destiny?” she scoffs, her hands flying to her hips. “What about the environment? Did you know you can't recycle most Christmas wrapping paper? You need to reuse it again and again. That's the sensiblegrown upthing to do.” She lifts a finger to scold me. “And don't think I didn't notice you called me sweetheart.Pal.”

Oh, she's good. And the way she's looking at me right now? This is beginning to feel more like feisty flirting than an actual argument—and I cannot say I'm unhappy about that.

“Are you suggesting I'm not a grown up? Because I think the fact I tower over you may be a clue to the fact that Iama grown up, a grown-up who exercises his right to choose to unwrap his Christmas gifts quickly and efficiently.”

“But it's not a race, Harrison. Isn't savoring the anticipation part of the whole fun?”

Savoring the anticipation? Oh, this is definitely getting flirty, and I'm finding it increasingly hard not to grin at her.

“Forget the anticipation. Why wait? I want to get right to the real deal efficiently and quickly.”

And yes, my words are dripping in innuendo.

“You're such a… aman.”

I raise my brows. “Oh, I’m a man now? I thought you said I wasn't a grown up. Get it straight, sweetheart. Am I a man or am I a boy?”

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