Page 60 of The Grump

“Oh... I don’t remember any of it.” Blushing, I added, “I didn’t even make the list.”

“I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“The dinner totally did the trick.” I flashed a seductive/tipsy smile.

“I want you, Bailey.”

Ohhhh, that totally worked for me, judging by how my body felt.

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He was keeping his voice low, and good thing he was, because otherwise, all the other couples could hear us.

I was too speechless to say anything else, so I just nodded.

There was a hot glint in his eyes, and he nudged my leg with his under the table. “Do you want us to ask for another dessert or more wine?”

“No, I need a bit of fresh air.” I needed to walk off the wine, if that was even possible.

A few minutes later, we were out on Decatur Street. The bright side to drinking so much wine was that I wasn’t cold at all.

“Someone’s really warm, huh?” Xander asked me.

“Yep.”

“No need for me to warm you up, then.”

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “If you insist, I won’t say no.”

“I do.”

“The jazz music is closer now. Pity they aren’t playing Christmas carols.”

“What’s your favorite carol?” he asked, amusement thick in his voice.

“‘White Christmas.’ Yours?”

“I don’t have a favorite one.”

“You just hate all of them equally?”

“I don’t hate them,” he said with a grin. “I’m just not as into them as everyone else.” He straightened up. “Wait a second. I know where this saxophonist is. He’s on Toulouse, next to Café Beignet.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because I’m there sometimes with Bella, and I recognize his way of playing. Want to head over there?”

“Sure. I love the celebratory feeling between Thanksgiving and Christmas,” I said. He gave me his arm, and I hooked mine around it without a second thought, putting my head slightly on his shoulder. I couldn’t blame this on the wine; I simply wanted to be with him. “It’s officially acceptable to start enjoying all things Christmas.”

He kissed the top of my head, and I felt as if someone doused me in warm water. “As if you need it to be official.”

“I don’t, but everything comes to life with lights.”

“It does make the city look friendlier.”

I instantly straightened up. “Will you look at that. An aspect of Christmas that you like.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re starting to rub off on me.”

As we walked farther down the street, I saw the saxophonist, instrument in hand, eyes closed as he played. To my surprise, Xander let go of me and headed to him, interrupting him. He whispered something, and the man nodded. Then Xander put a hundred-dollar bill in the collection bin.

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