Page 28 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

“Hmm?”

“Waffle! Gingerbread waffles as like… textured walls? Like on a castle, maybe? Or what about as a trellis, and we pipe vines up them?”

Bea turned, her vacant eyes suddenly focusing again. Focused and shining. “Oh, my gosh. I love that! I wonder if we can do that?”

“And what about texture mats? I got… I got you a set of six for Christmas. I know it’s early, but you could use them this week. Maybe.”

“Curtis! Oh my gosh. I could eat you up, you big candy cane.” Bea launched herself into his arms and hugged him.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, body reacting at once, even though he didn’t want to be “that guy.” That guy who was picturing Bea’s huggable body cushioned under him, pulling him into her until they were just one united wave of throbbing and sliding, giggling and kissing.

“Love you, Bea.”

The words fell out before he could stop them.

“Aw. I love you, too! I ordered you something I think you’ll think is cool, but it’s not here yet.”

“I only need you.”

“You sound like my mom, dweeb. She tells my dad that every year, and he practically dies on the spot. Then he goes to Macy’s for the day and comes back with the trunk full.”

“Well, I mean it. If I had—I mean, since I have you in my life, I don’t need another present.”

“Stop! You’re going to make me cry!” Bea hugged him again, and his mind drifted back to a soft, wet fantasy. “You’re secretly a romantic, Curt. Why the hell are you still single?”

Curtis bent his long, lanky frame to bury his chin in the glossy black curls that smelled like ginger, clove, and cinnamon. “I think I just have bad timing,” he whispered.

CHAPTER THREE

Calm. Cool. Casual. This isn’t a big deal. You’ve had sex before. With other people. Not people who look like models, but still. Other people. You’ve known Neal for a while. How many times have we grabbed lunch or dinner together lately? Those were dates, so this is at least… what? The sixth date? The eighth? Yeah. It’s normal to take this step.

You’ve shaved your legs. You have your good shapewear on. Yeah. It’s all good.

“There you are!” Neal tugged her into his dorm room and immediately collapsed on his bed. It was made with a black sleeping bag and a pillow that was covered in MMA logos.

Not very romantic, but…

“The email just came in! You’re late.” Neal waved his phone accusingly.

“Huh? Oh wow, I guess it took me longer to walk across campus than I thought. Curtis was really worried about me walking over alone, so he insisted on walking me here.”

“Idiot. There are like—six people left on campus. Today was the last class before break!”

“Hey. He’s protective. There are a lot of men who wouldn’t even think to?—”

“Cozy Country Cabin! What the fuck? It says we have to have a pumpkin spice gingerbread element, a dark German gingerbread, and three non-gingerbread edible cookie types in addition to our structure. No less than seven decorative elements. Multiple edible confections.”

Bea waited for Neal to invite her to sit, but he didn’t, so she hesitantly sat beside him on the bed—only to have him rocket off of it in a huff. “Don’t stress. They know that everyone is an amateur. I mean, sure, there are some really great bakers in this town, but?—”

“This is so much stupid baking shit. It’s a waste. People can’t even eat some of this, and if they did, they’d all balloon up to like three hundred pound fatasses.” Neal slammed his hand down on his desk and caused a cascade of empty energy shot bottles to careen to the floor.

Bea swallowed. Her weight wasn’t quite 300 pounds, but Neal’s tone made her wince. What would he say if he ever saw the numbers on her scale? “I love baking! Why are you getting so worked up?”

“I… You’re right. I’m being an ass. I’m being stupid.” Neal turned to her with his arms out. “I forgot I had you for a second, baby. I could never do this on my own, that’s all.”

Neal’s chest was hard and packed against her soft curves as he gave her a quick squeeze.

“C’mon. Let’s plan.” He sat backwards in his desk chair and swiped a new tab open on his phone. “I’ll take the notes. You be the brains of the outfit, and I’ll be Santa’s hungry little helper.”

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