Page 143 of The Christmas Wife

"He reads Harry Potter? How many men do you know who read Harry Potter?"

"He was reading it because he wanted to be able to discuss it with his niece.”

"No," she breathes.

"Yes." I hang my head.

"So, he fucks like a god, saves lives like he is God, and reads the kind of books that?—"

"—make me want to worship his brain. Yeah," I scowl. When she puts it like that… "I mean, he’s not perfect, you know."

"No?"

"He has a beard. I mean, it’s unkempt, which is fine if you go in for that sexy just-rolled-out-bed-on-Christmas-morning look."

"Sexy Santa," she snickers.

What I wouldn’t give to see him in nothing but a Santa hat.

"Don’t call him sexy," I pout.

"But he is," she protests.

"I mean, I can call him sexy, but not you."

She stares at me.

"What?" I frown.

"Nothing." She clears her throat, "What else do you not like about him?"

"He’s overbearing, dominant, uh, commands me do stuff, overrides me a lot, hates chocolate?—"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, he did eat the chocolate banana muffin batter I made," I offer.

She gives me a perplexed look. “Muffin batter?”

“It’s a long story...”

"Okaaay... So, he hates chocolate, but he ate what you made anyway."

"Hmm." And he did say that he was coming around to its taste especially when he licked it off my lips. My cheeks heat. Then he wouldn’t let me out of his sight because he wanted to keep me safe. Okay, so I won’t tell her that. I bite the inside of my cheek. What else? What else?

"He made his brother apologize to me for being rude."

"Now that’s not very gentlemanly is it?" she chuckles.

"Shut up." I wipe my hand across my face. What else? "He did tell me that he wants a future, but not with me."

"You sure? Maybe he was angry or something."

"He was." I hunch my shoulders, "But I can’t let that pass, can I? I mean, people speak the truth in the heat of the moment."

"Maybe he wanted to hurt you?"

"And I emptied my box of cookies on his head."

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