Page 58 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

The suggestion hangsin the air, like a dangling carrot. Normally, the idea of tequila and trashy girl talk would have me diving in headfirst. But tonight feels different.

As we pull up to my intersection, I wave off their protests about skipping girls’ night, promising, “Rain check?”

Lauren narrows her eyes like a disappointed parent. “You better. And don’t go MIA on us because of whatever this is. We will drag you out of your house, pajamas and all.”

I grin, slipping out of the car and waving them off. “Promise. Next time, mic in hand.”

The cold night air snaps against my cheeks, but even the chill can’t compete with the warmth flooding my mind. Every time I think about Ethan, my heart gives this little flip that both thrills and terrifies me. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s just a guy, and I’m a perfectly sane, capable woman. Yet the mere thought of him has me feeling like a teenager with a crush that’s getting less “crush” and more ... I don’t know. Something bigger.

When I open the door, I’m expecting nothing more than the quiet of my empty house. But instead, I’m greeted by ... well, an unexpected sight. Right there in the middle of the living room is a massive Christmas tree, tall and glittering under a mess of tangled lights.

I blink, once, twice. “What the?—”

“Surprise.”

I turn toward the voice, and there he is. Ethan. Standing there, looking like he just got in a fight with a dust bunny in the attic. His hair’s a mess, his shirt has a layer of grime, but his eyes—those dark, intense eyes that make my heart flutter—are softer than melted chocolate.

“Ethan…” I step closer, trying to piece together what exactly I’m seeing—the tree, the tangled lights, the dust-covered ornaments scattered on the floor. “What is this?”

He scratches the back of his neck, flashing a sheepish grin. “Found them in the attic. David must’ve packed them away after our last Christmas together.”

That last sentence lands heavy, like the final note of a sad song. I step forward, every emotion twisting in my chest as I take him in, the way he looks both strong and vulnerable in this moment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did,” he says, his voice dropping low. “You deserve a real Christmas, with all the trimmings. I know you love the big family Christmas parties. This is the least I could do.”

My throat tightens, my feet shuffling quickly across the ground, closing the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face against his chest. His arms slip around me, warm and steady, and for a moment, we just stand there, breathing each other in.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” The whisper is hoarse—it’s hard hiding my emotions.

“Yeah, well ... don’t go spreading it around,” he murmurs, his voice rough and soft at the same time, one hand smoothing over my hair.

When we finally pull apart, our faces are so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek, and something in his eyes makes my pulse skip. There’s a charge between us, like something’s crackling in the air, just waiting for one of us to make a move.

After a long moment, I clear my throat, trying to shake off the rush of warmth triggered by a pair of dark flames flickering at me.

I’d strip him naked right here if he stared at me for one moment longer like that.Not yet, Holly.You get him to bed now and you’re not getting out until tomorrow morning.

Nodding my head at the mess in front of us. “Alright, we’ve got work to do. These decorations aren’t going to untangle themselves.”

He chuckles, bending down to pick up a strand of lights. “If I’d known Christmas decorations involved this much labor, I would’ve skipped straight to taking you out for a dinner or something.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s your holiday spirit?” Nudging him with my elbow, I beam as I watch his lips twitch into a smirk.Quickly reaching out, I grab a dusty ornament from the floor, holding it up. “So, did you do this often with David?”

Ethan pauses, his fingers halting mid-tangle; his expression shifts, eyes softening, then he nods. “He used to make these ridiculous gingerbread houses every year. They’d collapse every single time.” He chuckles, his gaze going distant. “Once he actually got it right, just before he ate the roof.”

I laugh, imagining it. “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and for a second, his eyes drift back to me, and there’s a softness there that makes my chest ache. “He was fun.”

His expression shifts slightly, like he’s trying to keep the emotions at bay. I want to know more, ask him more, but I know better than to push. Turning back to untangling the lights, the silence stretches between us until finally, he speaks again.

“There was this one year ... David was determined to give us the best Christmas ever. We didn’t have much, but he saved up for weeks, and he surprised me with this beat-up old pair of skates. They weren’t even the right size, but he was so proud of them. I wore them anyway. We spent the whole day at the rink, just the two of us. It was good.”

I smile softly, my heart swelling at the story. “I’d have loved to meet him.”

“I know,” Ethan says quietly, his voice tinged with something bittersweet. “Get back to work?”

Agreeing with a nod, we focus in comfortable silence after that, the tree slowly coming to life with twinkling lights and ornaments that shimmer in the glow.

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