Page 50 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

So many shades of stupid.

The manwhore player would pick up the next girl—or ex—who came across his path.

No, it was time to go.

I didn't bother to fix my broken smile as I held his gaze. “Merry Christmas, Dylan.”

I turned my back swiftly on him so I couldn’t see his mouth move, but I sure as hell felt those three little words all the way to my zero-g floating stomach.

“Merry Christmas, Trin.”

CHAPTER THREE

DYLAN

Merry Christmas, Trin.That was the fucking best I could do? Her name on my lips tasted like Christmas morning, and I’d never get to experience it for real. Never mind I was supposed to hightail my ass back to Dad’s for Christmas Eve dinner where a brand new one night stand wasn’t likely to be welcome. Unless I called her my girlfriend. The word sat unyielding in my chest, like the lump of ice I fished out of Trin’s jacket.

Trinity.

I swallowed a groan and sipped my no longer scalding coffee. Something flew into my leg at a high speed, rocking me back on my heels. I stared down into the top of a multicoloured pom pom.

“Hey, shortstuff.”

“Not short, Booboo,” Bessie mumbled into my calf muscle through my jeans.

I grinned half-heartedly and squished my hand over her beanie. The wool was wet to touch. The snowfall had increased while I flirted my ass off with Trin, and I hadn’t noticed the crowd thinning. “Had fun?”

“Yup.” Brandon appeared at my side, chewing on a chocolate coated waffle bigger than his head. “Loads.”

“They’ve had lots of fun. And sugar.” My sister nudged an elbow at me that did nothing. “We’re heading home. Grant says there’s a storm coming in.” She studied the sky, her brow creased.

“Yeah,” I looked up, trying to spot the guy she was marrying who kept dashing off, though I was still distracted by the memory of the girl with purple ringed eyes and matching curls in her doe brown hair. “Get going, and message me if you get stuck, ‘kay, Sharon?”

She frowned, looking up at me. “Are you staying here?”

“Nah, just wanna catch up with a…you know…” I drifted off vaguely, not ready to call it quits on Trin just yet.

Sharon’s lips pursed. “I’ll see you at Dad’s later then.”

“Sounds good.” I detangled Bessie from my leg. “You gonna be safe to travel with this pair?” There was still no sign of her hubs-to-be.

“I grew up in the snow, Dylan. Just because we moved to California doesn’t mean I didn’t learn to drive in powder with Dad and all. Don’t wait too long, though. It’s a two-hour drive to Dad’s from here,” she reminded me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured, knowing my sarcasm would propel her into action.

“Right. Off we go,” she said brusquely, grabbing a small mittened hand in each of hers.

“Bye, Big D!” yelled Brandon at the top of his lugs.

“Bye, Uncie Booboo,” called Bessie.

“Don’t eat all the gingerbread before I get there,” I shouted back as they disappeared into the fast falling snow.

I stared around, noting the various Christmas huts packing up their wares. The coffee cart trundled by, the vendor’s head angled down and tucked into a high raised collar. I flicked myown up, hunching my shoulders in and feeling the cold for the first time since we arrived. Sharon might’ve been right; I should've been moving on.

Just as I made up my mind to head to my truck, a flicker of purple caught my eye through the storm.

“Trin,” I called, but the lilac figure darted off.

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