Page 27 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

“I guess that changes tonight.”

“But… But shouldn’t your boyfriendloveyou? Worship the ground you walk on? Think of you all the time? Trust you with his passwords before you trust him with your body?”

A strange ripple ran up her spine. The desperation in Curtis’ voice made her do a double take. “Don’t go all puritanical on me, man.”

“I’m not. I’m… I’m really not. I just want you to be with someone who loves you as—as much as a heart can hold. Yeah. Um. So. I need to get butter.”

Curtis stumbled off.

The rest of the class was frantic as teams worked together to prepare choux pastry balls, filling, and coatings of red and green or blue and white melting chocolate and ganache before assembling them into the beautiful displays known ascroquembouche. Neal worked in a silent fury, his eyes always on her.

He can’t take his eyes off of me.

That might explain why he keeps making so many mistakes…

“Thank God that’s over,” Neal groaned when they placed the last little cream puff on their finished product.

“I know! Three weeks until we have to even think about classes,” Bea held up her hand for a high-five before wondering if Neal would think that was lame.

He didn’t leave her hanging, his stressed features morphing into a smile. “But you’ll be baking up a storm, right? Gingerbread?”

“Of course we will! It can take hours, you know? And they only give you a week to get ready. Most people have to work…We’ll be spending a lot of time together this week.” Her fingers brushed his arm. His muscular arm, the kind bodybuilders show off.

God, Neal would look amazing all oiled up.

All slippery.

He’s makingmeall slippery.

“I have a few shifts to cover at the gym this week before I head home for break. We’re splitting the money fifty-fifty, right?” Neal’s voice dropped and he pressed closer to her, hand sliding across the stainless steel workstation to let his much larger hand capture hers.

“Mmhm. Fifty-fifty. Like partners should,” she whispered, body on fire when he picked up her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“I don't know what I’d do without you, babe. You have the softest, tiniest hands. You can really make all those fine details.”

“Yeah. Soft and tiny. Where it counts.”

You need to stop! Halmeoni and Harabeoji would come clear over from Busan if they heard you telling your boyfriend that you’re soft and tiny where it counts. And Pop Pop and Grandma are probably turning over in their graves.

Neal kissed her knuckles again and playfully flicked one of her dark brown curls out of her eyes. “Let’s wrap up, cutie. See you at my place around Midnight?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I don’t know why you wanted to watch this show if you won’t even sit down! The pizzelle maker isn’t even plugged in!” Curtis had a tiny studio apartment in one of the old red brick buildings right on campus. It was one of the only buildings that wasn’tused as an office space or a frat house. There was barely room to pace, but Bea was pacing, and he was following. It would be funny if he weren’t dying inside.

Say something. Say you love her. Say you want her.

Why didn’t I tell her before?

I didn’t know before! It snuck up on me!

It had. Last Christmas, he would have loudly declared Bea as one of his best friends. This year, he wanted to tell the world that she was not only his best friend but his lover.

But he was stuck in the friend zone. And if he said something now, Bea might think he was just jealous or being a cockblock. Was that even a thing with girls?

“Huh? Oh! I don’t think I have the right mixture yet. It’s too thick.”

“Well… What about a waffle maker?”

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