Page 22 of Mistle-Ho

I don’t want to tell her about the twat at her door, but I do want to gauge her reaction to the news. See if he’s anything to worry about. “Some guy dropped them off a minute ago.”

Her brows pinch together as she comes my way. “Some guy?” Her full lips press into a frown. “Who?”

I shrug. “Some preppy looking asshole.” I sound aggravated. I am. I don’t like knowing men who look like that are trying to bring Al flowers.

“Ugh.” She grabs the bouquet from my hand. “Did he have highlights?”

“I didn’t look that close.” I was too busy glaring. “He had a stick up his ass though.”

Al’s nose wrinkles as she plucks the card from the roses. “Dillon.” She pulls the square out of the envelope and gives it a quick scan before rolling her eyes and dropping both onto the counter. “We work together.”

Fucking great. Not only does this ass know where she lives, he also gets to spend five days a week with her. “He came to your doorstep on Christmas morning with flowers, Al. I think that’s more than a coworker situation.”

Her brows lift at my accusing tone. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird.” I shift on my feet. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

She crosses her arms. “Youspent the night in my bed.” Her chin lifts. “Andwe’renot more than asituation.”

I work my jaw from side to side because I don’t know what to say to that. She’s not technically wrong.

But she might not be right either.

So I do the same thing she did to me when shit got complicated at the party. “I gotta go.”

I turn and stalk out into the hall, digging the keys from my back pocket as I take the elevator to the main floor.

My scowl holds the whole drive home. It’s still there as I let myself into my condo, stripping away my clothes on the way to the shower.

We’re not more than a situation.

I don’t like the way she said it. So easily. As if it never crossed her mind to want more. It’s not like I want her to want more, but she could’ve at least considered it.

Jumping under the hot spray, I scrub down, rushing through the process before toweling off. I run a quick comb through my hair, pausing a little too long to question if I should be spending more time on my grooming.

Was that dick on Al’s doorstep the kind of guy she wants? Someone with a line of hair products on his counter and an expensive wardrobe in his closet? It would make sense. I used her bathroom. I saw how much stuff she smears on her face and hair every day. Why wouldn’t she want a man who does the same?

I glance down at the items next to my sink. I’ve got a bottle of Jergens I’ve had for a year, deodorant, and cologne. That’s the fucking extent of it.

My wardrobe is even worse.

After brushing my teeth and tucking a towel around my hips, I fish through the racks of jeans and T-shirts—glaring at the limited options like I’m not entirely responsible for the lack of selection—to find the reindeer pajamas I bought to wear this morning. I dress, spray on my cologne, collect the gifts I got for Babs and Dan, and I’m back out in the hallway in under fifteen minutes.

The drive to Al’s parents’ house isn’t long, but I’m still late. And I’m not the only one who’s late.

Alexis is just getting out of her car as I pull up, and fuck if she doesn’t look as amazing as always. I can tell she cut some corners getting ready, but only because I know she was short on time. The curls that are usually cascading over her shoulders have been replaced by smooth straight strands. Her makeup is minimal, giving her a softer sort of expression than her normal sexy smirk. The silky pajamas she’s chosen to wear accent every curve of her body, but the accessories she usually adds are missing.

Only one single item accompanies the satiny pants and top, and it pleases me to no fucking end.

“That scarf looks good on you, Al.” I reach out to run my hand down the cashmere, tracing the tips of my fingers across one nipple in the process.

Alexis shifts the gifts she’s carrying to hide where I’m touching her, eyes darting to the front porch before bouncing back to me. “Behave.”

“That doesn’t sound like any fun.” I stall, because the minute we step in there I’ve got to pretend like I don’t know how she smells. How she tastes. The expression she makes when she comes. “Or possible with you wearing something so fucking sexy.”

Her brows pinch together as she glances down. “I don’t know what it says about you that you think these pajamas are sexy.”

It probably says a lot more than I want to think about. Luckily, I’m saved from myself when Babs opens the door. Instead of greeting us with a boisterous ‘Merry Christmas’like usual, her lips are pressed into a deep frown. Her eyes barely find where her daughter and I stand close together before she turns away, leaving the door open.

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