Page 32 of It's Mother-Pucking Christmas!

I scoffed, trying to wrestle my leftovers from him. “Dakota made that.”

“Leave it alone!” Mike yelled at Rick as he ate a slice of Dakota’s cake. “That’s his emotional support leftovers.”

“I didn’t sleep with her. It’s too soon. We’ve only had two dates.”

“Look, College Boy, that girl wants you to put out. She ain’t waiting ’til marriage.” Pete shook his head.

“That’s why I’m waiting ’til the third date.”

“My man!” Erik put me in a headlock, ruffling my hair.

“I’ve never wanted any woman like I want Dakota. She’s the whole package. She’s everything. I’m going to marry her.” I was deliriously happy. I didn’t even protest when my teammates dug into the leftovers, making appreciative noises.

Pete collapsed on the floor, mumbling, “Oh my god, this is fucking delicious. I take it back, marry this girl. Go propose right now. I’m buying you a ring.”

A ring!

I lay down next to him, dreaming of the wedding, the happily ever after. A home.

“Do not, I repeat, do not tell her you’re in love with her or propose marriage to her after,” Mike lectured. “She’ll think you’re weird. Even after you two do the deed.”

Erik piped up. “Especially then.”

“This is not the first time I’ve been with a woman. You act like I’m a child,” I shot back.

“You’re CollegeBoy, not college man.” Pete sat up. “And we know your list of failures with women is long and legendary.”

“How many failed proposals do you have?” Mike asked.

“This time it’s different,” I repeated. “I know Dakota will say yes. We’re meant to be together. She’s the woman I’ve been waiting for my entire life.”

I stared up at the ceiling, remembering how amazing her family—crazy, yeah, but cool—was, how perfect she was, kissing her in the snow.

Mike appeared in my vision. “Repeat after me, College Boy…”

“Okay, okay, Iknow.” I waved him away. “No marriage proposals.”

“And do not tell her you love her.”

“But I think I’m falling for her.”

“No!” Rick jabbed me with a fork. “My god, you’re going to be eighty, and I’m going to still be thirty, and you’re going to be hobbling around on a walker with your third hip replacement, and I’m still going to be having the same conversation with you, aren’t I?”

“I’m stocking condoms in your nightstand,” Erik said, ambling out of the bedroom. He stuck his head back out. “Clean sheets for tomorrow are on your dresser. Don’t forget!”

“Do not blow this,” Mike warned.

“I’m not doingittomorrow,” I told the guys. “I need to plan our third date. It has to be special.”

“Romantic dinner?” Eric suggested.

“Lame! Go ice skating,” Mike countered.

“Seriously? That’s a fucking cliché!” Rick clapped his hands over my ears so he could swear at Mike. “You all have the shittiest fucking ideas.”

“Take her on a hike,” Pete told me.

“What the fuck?” Mike scowled. “No.”

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