Page 8 of Christmas Wishes

Bracing myself, I turned and found the cute guy in Nico’s coat looking like a predator sizing up his prey. That look gave me a twinge I hadn’t felt in a while. At my size, I wasn’t used to being chased, and this guy looked like he’d happily run after me all over town.

He gave me a long once-over that normally would’ve sent heat licking up my spine. “Sixty-nine?” he asked, blinking innocently at me under his long, defined lashes. Was he wearing mascara? He was petite with cropped dark curls, olive skin, and mischievously elvish features.

“Huh?”

“That’s my favorite number. How about you give me yours?” He held out his phone.

I stared at it as I attempted to process his atrocious pickup line. I dragged my stare to his face.

“You’re wearing my dead boss’s coat.”

The phone fell out of his hand. He immediately crouched to pick it up. Pink tinged his cheeks. “Oh mygod. I’m so sorry. Wow. What a fail.” He rubbed the back of his neck and batted his eyelashes at me. “So you weren’t eye-fucking me? My bad.”

If I’d taken a drink of my coffee, I would’ve choked on it. I ignored Lucy’s loud laugh. If it were another situation, another place, another time, I would’ve whisked him off for some fun. I didn’t have time for that and wasn’t in the mood for it either.

“No.”

“A man of few words.” His smile faltered for a moment so brief I nearly missed it.

I didn’t like the way my gut swirled like indigestion or why I felt the need to apologize. I hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d approached with the worst pickup line in history, but something about him made me care.

* * *

KEATON

How in the hell had I misread the situation so badly? I fought the urge to look at the ceiling and dramatically exclaim, “Woe is me!” The GSA club flyer and pronoun pin had made me drop my guard.

If we were in a dance club back home, I would already be in a dark corner on my knees, or better yet, he would. Seeing those tree trunk thighs in a crouch? Yes, please. And, up close, his vibrant hazel eyes were lethal. They reminded me of my favorite eye shadow.

Unfortunately, instead, we were in a small town in Middle of Nowhere, Arizona, and this guy probably didn’t even like men. Though he didn’t seem horrified by me hitting on him but rather my coat.

I groaned. Dead boss’s coat. I barely held back a shudder. I doubted the guy died in it, but still. Kinda creepy.

“Anyway. Sorry about that. You mentioned you know who this coat belonged to?”

“Yes. Nicolas.” He didn’t offer any more details.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I felt awkward saying it, but what else was I supposed to do? At least Arlo would get a kick out of me making an ass out of myself on my first day in town.

“Thanks.” His voice was gruff.

“Um, do you want it back? I’m sure I can find something else.” I could layer a few sweatshirts and use an umbrella if there was any active snow.

The guy opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head. He really was a man of few words.

“Your boss, Nicolas, had quite the taste in fashion.”

The guy’s mouth twitched. Damn, almost got a smile. I bet his full smile was stunning.

“He didn’t believe in getting rid of something until it was falling apart.”

I tugged at the pocket with a seam ripped out so it was basically a hanging flap and raised my eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Arms are still attached and the zipper works.”

I laughed. “Fair enough. Great taste in cologne though.” It’d gotten a hint of leather and wood.

The guy’s mouth curved into a small, sad smile. “He does. Did.”

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