Page 2 of A Billionaire's Holiday Love

“Pot roast, mashed potatoes, and string beans. I’ll also take a glass of domestic beer on tap.”

Her brown cheeks lifted. “Would you like to try our Christmas beer flavor cinnamon apple?”

His perfect Greek god like bearded face scrounged up like I offended him. “No. Nothing Christmassy.”

“Do you have something against Christmas?” I asked.

Delila and I exchanged glances before turning our attention back to him.

“Yeah. I hate it.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Says the man sitting in a Christmas diner.”

His fingers slipped through his dark brown hair, shoving the strands off his forehead. “Just because I helped you with your coat doesn’t give you a front-row seat into my life.”

My mouth fell open. “You didn’t have to take up residence beside me. Sit somewhere else,” I growled.

He stared at the chalkboard. “No, I like it right here.”

I rolled my eyes.

He glanced at Delila. “Do you have Canyon beer on tap?”

“No.”

“I don’t want any frills.” He waved his hand in the air.

“Just domestic.”

“Coming right up.” Her long ponytail danced behind her as she sashayed toward the opposite end of the counter.

The guy retrieved his laptop from the brown leather satchel hanging from his chair.

I watched Delila create my cup of goodness and pour the sexy Scrooge guy’s glass of beer.

The man pecked away at the keys as Delila sat our drinks on the counter. I glanced at his hair, cut to precision. The sides were cut low. What was my infatuation with his hair?

My nose wiggled over the peppermint goodness before I brought the scolding hot red mug to my lips. The smooth, rich chocolate warmed my insides. Later tonight, I’d sit in front of the fireplace with another cup of cocoa.

His eyes never left his laptop screen. He grabbed the glass and sipped.

“On a deadline, huh? I know all about that.”

I brought the mug to my lips again, drawing marshmallows into my mouth this time.

He sighed. His narrowed eyes raked over me. “Look, Ms. Christmas. Not everyone’s on vacation. Some of us have to work.”

Slamming my cup on the counter, I pointed at him.

The hard lines on his chiseled face softened for the second time since we met.

He burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.

“What’s funny?”

His dark brown brows crinkled. “I’ll show you.”

He grabbed his cell, snapped a pic of me, then held the phone between us.

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