Page 42 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“Bella?”

My father’s voice booms in my head.‘Get your head in the game, Belly.’

I push aside the awkward feeling of having my father’s voice yelling at me while having extremely inappropriate thoughts about Drew and smile. “Sorry for interrupting,” I sing. “I just wanted to know what kind of butter you liked?”

I chicken out. I can’t tell him anything, and his watches me flail at my lame question.

“Normal butter or honey butter? For the homemade bread I’m making with the lasagna.” I bite my tongue, stopping myself from adding any more food. Bread? I can barely make toast; yet, I promised homemade bread and lasagna for our dinner. “Because I’m a honey butter fan myself, but some people find ita little too sweet, so I wanted to make sure that I didn’t waste my time making it.”

I’m babbling, and the worst part is that we both know it, but we’re powerless to stop it. Drew takes a step toward me and smiles in that friendly Drew way.

“I’ve never had honey butter, so I’ll trust your judgment.”

“Okay.” Somehow, in two minutes, I’ve committed to making bread and honey butter for this dinner, and I have no idea how to do either. “I guess I should start on that then.” Just as I turn, something bristles above me.

What feels like a talon tickles across my head, and I instantly squeal, falling back because my first instinct is that it’s a spider. Clutching onto the frame, I hold myself up just enough that I don’t fall to the floor.

“Relax, it’s mistletoe,” Drew says unfazed by my clumsiness as he tosses his boxers into a pile of folded clothes. I suppose he’s used to it by now. “We had a party the night before my roommates left. Hunter thought it would be a good idea to hang mistletoe above all the doors in the house.”

“But we’re upstairs. Who’s going to see it up here in the laundry room?”

Drew raises a brow, and a smile pulls at one side of his face. “Come on, Bella. I’m sure you can think of a few ways to have fun on a washing machine.” He laughs when I scrunch my face, which I hope looks like disgust, because I totally hope he can’t read my mind. “Ah, sorry, B. I forgot J-”

“Don’t you dare mention Jimmy Johnson again,” I shriek, wagging my finger, but not moving from my spot since I’d have to drag my cast with me. “Just because I dated him does not mean my sex life has been lackluster since.”

He raises his hands. “Hey, who said anything about your sex life? I was merely pointing out that I’d heard from others thatJimmy treated kissing like he was at an all-you-can-eat buffett. Some girls liked it; some didn’t.”

Drew’s trying to rile me up. It’s what our relationship is, but I’m not going to let him get away with it this time. “I hardly remember since it was so long ago.” He flicks another pair of boxers into the basket.

“Or because it was so terrible,” he mumbles, but I hear him loud and clear.

“Kiss me, Drew.”

He whips his head up in shock, and my blood pumps faster than an F1 car as I watch him take me in. Okay, that was my mind talking. A slip of the tongue that I don’t feel like apologizing for. So I don’t. I just look at him with the utmost casual expression, pretending that my suggestion isn’t that big a deal. Who knows, maybe it isn’t. Maybe this will be the perfect way to get Drew off my mind. Once I’ve sampled the goods, I shouldn’t want him anymore. That’s how it works with candy. It’s always been the anticipation of the first taste with me. I just need to taste Drew. That’s it. Then I can go back to hating him.

“What?” His voice is high; his face is shocked, and strangely, I feel empowered.

Pointing at the perfectly pruned foliage above my head, I say, “Well, I’m under the mistletoe. Isn’t it tradition to kiss under it?”

“Yes, but,” he stammers without finishing his sentence. Instead, he stares at his boxer shorts for an unhealthy length of time.

“But nothing. Isn’t it bad luck for a girl not to kiss someone once she’s caught under the mistletoe?”

“I, uh, don’t know.”

“It is, trust me. Or maybe this is your ultimate payback. Are you going to refuse to kiss me, so I have bad luck for years to come?”

“It’s not that. I’m just concerned that Coach will kill me if he finds out.” His eyes finally focus on my face, narrowing in on my lips. When he licks his own, I smile because I know he wants to kiss me too. Maybe it’s the snow making us want to do crazy things like inThe Shining. I don’t know. Hopefully, it won’t lead to murder, but instead, one night of hot passion that will make it easier to move on from Drew.

“I knew you were close with my dad, but I didn’t realize that extended to you revealing the girls you swap spit with.”

Thankfully, he scrunches his face in disgust. “That’s not something we talk about.”

“Me either. So since it’s just you and me in this house, how will he ever find out?”

“You have a point.”

I lean my body farther into the room, anticipating him coming in.

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