Page 56 of My Favorite Holidate

“I did, but the planner didn’t hang it up.” He sounds a little dazed too. Come to think of it, he hasn’t said much since we moved into the kitchen. His eyes even look a bit…hazy.

Wait.

Did he like the kiss as much as I did?

The thought lodges in my brain and won’t let go.

He turns his gaze toward the staircase leading to the movie room. “But I think perhaps my daughter may be,” he says. “A mistletoe person, that is.”

Does Mac have a little Christmas matchmaker in her? I let my mind wander to thoughts of Christmas with himand his daughter. To the crackle of the fireplace, the scent of pine, the familiar music that feels like home. To baking cookies in this kitchen—though not gingerbread, of course—then making more ornaments with her. Whimsical animals like foxes wearing scarves, polar bears with argyle sweaters, and reindeer in boots. We three could hang them on the tree together, and then when Mac goes to bed, Wilder and I could kiss under the mistletoe again.

What is happening in my head? I’m fantasizing about ornament design with his daughter? About after-dark kisses with him?

This is foolish and dangerous.

I blink off the cozy and sexy thoughts, but when I meet Wilder’s handsome, nearly inscrutable face, he doesn’t seem so inscrutable anymore.

The haze in his eyes? It does look like longing, a little. Or, really, a lot.

But surely that’s just the side effect of an unexpected sultry kiss. It’s a byproduct of fake dating. Someone could even list it on a pill bottle—side effects of fake dating may vary and include, but are not limited to, swoons, stomach flips, and naughty thoughts. You may want to talk to your pharmacist about what to expect and watch out for. If symptoms persist, see your love doctor.

I smooth a hand over my sweater, sliding into hostess mode and returning to the reality of this shower we’re hosting for my sister and Wilder’s best friend. “I should see if…if anyone needs anything.”

Wilder clears his throat, nodding a few times, almost like he’s clearing away the fog too. “Same here.”

My chest twinges with hope, with a dangerous ache. But I can’t spend this party wondering if he liked hisdaughter’s Christmas decorating touch. Or if he liked our kiss in the same way I did.

Besides, he let me know the score from the start.

My boss wants us to be the best fake daters there are to get his aunt off his back and to show my ex what he’s lost. Wilder’s a competitive man so of course he’d give me the best fake kiss in the history of Christmas. Even if I liked it, even if it felt real.

That mystery solved, I return to the party and box up the memory of his lips as I refill the pitcher of Christmas mojito mix.

Doesn’t take long for my friends to join me.

“Just friendly?” Josie asks with a smirk.

“I mean, that was such ajust friendlykiss,” Maeve seconds while Everly grins.

I blush and say nothing, because they’re right.

“We should have a costume contest!”

This brilliance is brought to us by Brady a little later as we finish a round ofWhat Would the Groom Say. He’s seated next to the bride and groom, on the couch across from Wilder and me.

I shake my head at Brady. “I don’t think so.”

He pouts. “C’mon. What’s a Christmas movie costume party without a little contest?”

“A Christmas movie costume party,” I say dryly, trying to hide my annoyance. He didn’t plan this shower. I did. But I don’t want to let on he’s a pebble in my shoe because then he’ll really think he hurt me. Hisyou moved on quicklycomment aside, he seems to believe the mere sight of him with Iris would destroy me. I can’t let him thinkthat, but anger would definitely tip him off. I take a quiet, calming breath, then say as sweetly as I can, “Also, it’s not a costume party. It’s a wedding shower.”

He snort-huffs. “Yeah, but we all went to the effort to dress up. Per the host and hostess rules,” he says, pointing to Wilder then to me, like he’s uncovered the culprits. Wilder’s body is tight. He’s the picture of coiled restraint as Brady keeps talking. “And everything’s more fun when there’s a competition, right? Isn’t that why we’re having the Christmas competition before your wedding next week?” Brady whips his gaze to Leo, seeming to seek approval from the cooler, older cousin.

Leo shoots him a placating—I think—smile. “Well, sure. Somewhat. Charlotte and I do love games,” he says, and there’s a bit ofsave mein his voice. He’s the peacemaker in the bunch, that’s clear.

“And we love Christmas, so it made sense to make it an event,” Charlotte adds, and the subtext in her words is crystal clear—that doesn’t mean we want this casual wedding shower to be a costume contest, you jackass.

Though, I might have just added theyou jackassin my head.

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