Page 3 of Faking With Mr. Steele

I smile. “Sorry to spoil it for you.”

“Take this song for instance.” I listen as “Jingle Bells” lightly plays from the speakers. “Have you ever ridden in a one-horse open sleigh?”

“No,” I answer, distracted by the way his jean clad knee brushes my leg when he turns to face me.

“I have. It wasn’t fun.”

“Maybe you were with the wrong person,” I say, sounding a lot like I’m flirting.

His tongue peeks out to caress the corner of his mouth before he says, “I’m sure I was.”

“What about giving gifts? And getting gifts? And spending time with family?”

“No, no, and hell no. I try to avoid my family as much as possible.”

I frown a little. “Not even Christmas movies?It’s a Wonderful Life?Christmas Story?

“No.” A cute dimple appears when he smiles. “Especially, not Christmas movies.”

“Elf?”

He cringes. “Sounds horrible.Die Hardis a good one.”

Don’t get me wrong I’m all for Bruce Willis, but… “Die Hardisnota Christmas movie.”

“Is too.”

“Is not,” I challenge with a hard stare. His warm chocolate eyes hold mine. The way they study me over the rim of his drink causes a zing in places that hasn’t felt a zing in a very long time. “I guess you hate eggnog as well?”

He holds up his drink. “I’d rather have this instead. Bourbon is better than whatever they put in eggnog.”

“Well, you can put bourbon in it,” I mumble under my breath.

Another Christmas song, “Blue Christmas” by Elvis, serenades the bar, and I chuckle a little.

“What?” he asks.

“This song is kind of perfect for you.”

“I never said I was sad, just not a fan of Christmas.”

I take another sip of my drink. “Is there anything you like about it?”

“Mistletoe.” His eyes drop once more to my mouth. “Let me ask you this, why do you like it so much?”

“Hm.” My mind overloads with all things holiday bliss. “It’s maybe just the spirit of it all.”

As if I’m an anomaly, he silently stares at me. Clearly my flirtdar is off tonight, because I’d swear his brown eyes are more than admiring my sweater; they’re removing it.

“Let me buy you another drink.” He motions Brian over. “Put her tab on me.”

I wave off his gesture. “No, really, you don’t have to do that.”

“I can’t let you drink alone. Just doesn’t seem right.”

“Well, I sure hate drinking alone.” My voice just dropped like fifty octaves.

“Yeah, me too.” His voice is just as low.

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