Page 20 of Holiday Flame

“I don’t know. You’ve had dumber ideas.”

I give a short, humorless laugh. “I really intended to follow the bet. But then Jade seemed interested in me. One thing led to another and…”

“And it ended with my sister about to blow you in her bedroom.”

“Hey.” My hands ball into fists at my side. “Careful how you talk. She’s your sister.”

“Yeah. She is.” Maverick folds his arms against his chest and leans back against the dryer that I was leaning on only minutes ago.

Maverick clears his throat. “Okay, enough of that. What’s your new plan?”

Now it’s my turn to clear my throat. “What do you mean?”

“Clearly, you like my sister.”

“I do. I have. For years.”

“Crushing on my sister behind my back for years.” He shakes his head before giving me a pointed look. “Have you told her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you told her that you’re in love with her?”

My heart pitches at the way he casually throws that out. But, instead of panicking, it feels… nice. It’s good to finally have someone know what’s on my heart.

And, jeez, I really am in danger of turning into one of the lovesick saps the rest of the crew has become. Thinking phrases like that.

“Not yet,” I admit. “I’m trying not to rush things.”

“Yeah. It seemed like you were doing a good job of not rushing things when you were climbing out of my sister’s bedroom window.”

“Look, I said I was sorry. I?—”

He holds up his hand. “Forget it. You love my sister. Would I have liked to found out another way? Obviously. But you’re already like a brother to me. You might as well be a brother to me.”

I’m oddly touched by his words. “Thanks, brother.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You still have to get my sister to fall in love with you.”

“About that.” I smirk. “I think I have a plan to help that along.”

“Oh, really?”

I nod. “Just give me a little time.”

“Want to make a bet?”

“No, I’m smart enough to know better than to bet on your sister.”

“Good man.” He extends his hand to shake mine. “Now, let’s see just how smooth you are. And, Remington?”

“Yeah?”

“You fuck this up?—”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupt. “If I fuck this up, I’ll kick my own ass.”

We’re both still chuckling when we re-enter the kitchen. Each of us carries a few types of meat, because neither of us remembered to ask Emerson which one she wanted.

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