Page 30 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

“Duh. You’re going to be famous.” Curtis stuck his arm out, inviting her to interlock her elbow through his.

“No,we’regoing to be famous.”

“With a whole fleet of Street Sweets trucks?”

“All in different colors.” Bea yawned and leaned against her friend. He wasn’t big and bulky like Neal, but his height and warmth made her feel beyond safe. Happy.

“No, man, you have to be consistent. Branding.” Curtis chuckled against her.

“I think they should be green with really bright pink accents.”

“The cupcakes?” Curtis looked down at her, eyebrows disappearing under his beanie.

“No, the trucks!”

“I don’t know. We can talk about it over brunch. Hey… Um. You want to go Christmas shopping at the Night Market in town tomorrow?”

“I have to start working on the baking and designing. This year’s theme is Cozy Cabin.”

“Oooh! I got an idea for the roof!”

“Yeah?”

“Are you thinking of shingled or like, thatched? I have an idea, either way.”

“You’re the best, Curt.”

Was it her imagination, or did her best friend hang his head and blush?

His cheeks are just pink because it’s twenty degrees out here. And he’s ducking his head to keep that long giraffe neck of his warm.

Ten minutes later, Bea slipped into one of the hoodies that she’d left at Curtis’ apartment during the semester. It was the only thing in his apartment that would begin to fit her.

No pants. No bra. No worries. She padded barefoot to the bedroom because Curtis insisted she sleep in the bed. Two minutes later, she padded back out to the tiny cubby of a living room, where Curtis was folded up like an accordion on the loveseat-size futon. “You. Get in bed with me.”

Curtis sprang up so fast that he crashed to his knees. “What? Really?”

“Yeah! You’re smushed there.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. Now. Bed. March.”

This time, she didn’t imagine the blush and the little wistful sigh as Curtis slipped past her with a tiny smile. “Yes, Chef.”

Do not think unclean thoughts about your best friend. Do not think unclean—crap, how have I never noticed how hot he looks in sweats before?

Bea jerked her eyes to the ceiling as Curtis flopped onto the bed.

The long bulge in his sweatpants flopped, too.

If it’s that long when he’s soft, what do you think he’d be like when he’s hard?

What do you think Neal would be like?

Guilt bit her smartly on the ass, and she hurried to tuck herself into bed, well out of Curtis’ reach.

CHAPTER FOUR

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