Page 98 of My Favorite Holidate

And it’s time for the full truth. “I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to tell Leo. I feel like such a jackass for asking that. I know he’s your groom and it’s a terrible thing to say, but I don’t want you to tell him what I’m about to tell you—the reason.”

In no time, Charlotte puts two and two together as she hisses, “Brady.”

The embarrassment hits me all over again but in a different way this time. It doesn’t hurt in the gut like it did on Thanksgiving. It doesn’t eat away at me like it did a week or so later when Charlotte told me Brady would be going to the shower. Now, after spending time with Wilder, I feel…rationally embarrassed. Logically ashamed. There’s no sting in my heart or my stomach anymore. But it was still a shitty thing to experience, so it still hurts to woman up and say, “Brady cheated on me with Iris at Thanksgiving and I walked in on them,” I explain calmly.

Charlotte is not at all calm. Red billows from her eyes. Smoke curls from her nostrils. She’s a cartoon character about to blow. “I will kill him now. With a pointy candy cane. Cousin Troy probably has a duffel bag full.”

“No doubt, but Brady is not worth the murder rap. Trust me.”

She crosses her arms fiercely. “Leo will kill him. Now. Tonight.”

“Yeah, that won’t cause any problems for your wedding at all if your groom becomes the candy cane killer,” I say dryly. Then I pat her hand. “See? This is the thing. I don’t want to draw attention at your wedding. Please don’t tell Leo. Please don’t say anything. I feel terrible asking you to keep this from your fiancé, but I know they’re close. They’re family and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“But I hate Brady with the fire of a thousand, million suns burning up his underwear so he has to run down the mountain streets naked in a hailstorm.”

I giggle at my sister’s dastardly mind. “That is sister love right there. But I can’t give Brady the satisfaction of me being the pathetic ex-girlfriend, so he can’t know this is fake.”

She nods crisply, like a dutiful soldier. “I understand completely. And you know what? This is war. We are going to make sure he does not win the Christmas competition.”

I crack up, long and echoing against the quiet night. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

“I’m not your sister for nothing. That asshole can’t come to my wedding and think he can possibly beat you in a competition.”

I stage whisper, “That’s partly why Wilder and I teamed up. To take him down.”

She grins like a nefarious raccoon rubbing its paws together before it plots to topple a garbage can. “That’s perfect. And you have my sister-to-sister promise. I’m not going to say a word. But I also want you to know I love you and he can really suck it because I will always look out for you.” She gives me a hug and then whispers, “My number one regret now is introducing the two of you. And I get why you kept it from me. I just hope you forgive me for setting you up with him.”

I laugh. “Oh, please! You could never have known he’d do that. I didn’t think he would either. We can’t always tell what people are capable of,” I say, though already in this fake relationship with my boss, I’m dead certain he’d never pull a wrapping room move.

“Well, I once liked Brady, but now I officially hate him.”

“He’s really hate-able.”

But the funny thing is…I don’t really have very strong feelings about Brady one way or the other anymore. What I do have feelings about? Feelings I’m barely beginning to understand? They’re for the man in the cashmere sweater sharing a bedroom with me.

I let go of my sister and grab a towel and water to clean up the hot chocolate. When that’s done, I say goodnight to Charlotte and then head to my room, feeling a little unburdened but completely unsure what to expect when I open the door.

Will he be asleep on the couch, like a stubborn man? The floor? Or will he be in the shower?

When I turn the knob, I have the answer to whethermy boss owns anything for lounging around in. He’s in a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, and he’s stretched out on the bed, and my mouth goes dry.

31

I’M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHALET

Fable

I guess it’s been decided—the sleeping arrangements. “And I was prepared for you to keep fighting with me,” I blurt out.

And oops. Did I accidentally let on that I’m still thinking about the way my boss tongue-fucked me on the couch in front of the Christmas tree? But at least that was better than any of the alternatives. Likecan you please take off your shirt and show me if it’s true that there’s one billionaire in the world who has ripped abs?Or,can you stop being so stoic and let me return the favor because visions of your cock are dancing in my head?

He sets down the paperback he’s reading. “Would you like to keep fighting, Fable?”

He says it with amusement. With a little bit of flirt in his voice. Like an offer. Or maybe I’m just reading sex into everything.

Get a grip, girl. You’ve had sex on your mind ever since you were pretty much grinding on your boss during a practice kiss.

“No. It’s fine. Couch for me, right?” I ask breathily, my head fuzzy from the too-sexy image in front of me.

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