Page 7 of The Mistletoe Trap
Hands shoved at her back, pushing her forward and taking away the option of playing it cool. Like Dad and Rashad had said, regardless of what anybody else said or did, their moms had it in their heads they could force them across the friends’ line.
Might as well stop fighting the hug impulse and go with it.
She took one step, and then Gavin picked up his pace, bobbing and weaving around the slower-moving clusters of people. A squeal she’d sworn she was going to keep inside escaped as she reached him, and she went for a hug, forgetting what a stretch it was for her and thinking she should’ve gone for the waist instead of the neck.
But then he wrapped his left arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet, squeezing her tight to his chest, his low laughter filling her ear. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”
“You, too. Did you get even taller?”
“Nah. They bumped me up an inch on the roster to make me sound more impressive, but I think you’ve just forgotten how short you are.” He lowered her to her feet and peered down at her.
She frowned up at him. “I’m average.”
“Jules, ain’t nothing about you that’s average. You excel at two things: whatever you put your mind to and shortness.”
She smacked his arm, and they shared a chuckle. Her eyes probed beneath the jacket he’d draped over his shoulders—probably to hide the brace and accompanying sling from the prying eyes of the media in San Antonio—and worry bobbed its barbed head.
“Not yet,” Gavin said. “I don’t want to get into it here.”
“Okay,” she said, conjuring a cheery smile. For some reason, it made two creases form between his eyebrows, and why was he staring at her like that? “What?”
“That lipstick is…bold. It’s just throwing me off a little—not that it looks bad or anything.”
“You used to be a much better liar. But long story short, my mom thought you’d see my naked lips and be likeWhoa, she’s really let herself go.She’ll be so thrilled to hear that you also think it makes me look like a streetwalker.”
“I never said that, and if you tell Peggy I did, I’ll be forced to ask her when’s the last time she moved the couch in the living room.”
Julie gasped. “You wouldn’t—you know how she gets about the carpet.”
“Not unless you give me a reason.” He slung his uninjured arm around her shoulders and started toward their families. Naturally, their moms were glowing, thinking their nefarious plan had worked and they were now officially in love after one hug.
The next instant, both sets of parents were surging forward and throwing their arms around him, and there were cheek kisses and bro-hugs with hard pats on the backs.
After giving everyone a few minutes to catch up, they gathered their belongings, pulled on their coats, and headed through the parking lot.
“Just so you know,” Julie said as she inclined her head toward Gavin. “I also got the big signs. Notice how they said ‘Welcome’ and ‘We love you’ without specifying the names? I mean, technically, that meansyougot the recycled version. Since I’ve literally watched your ego grow bigger and bigger this year, I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks for treating me like a normal person.” Gavin bumped his hip into hers, and she stumbled and corrected her balance. “I’m so sick of people treating me like a superstar.”
“Yeah, I’m there for you in a big way with that,” she said with a laugh. After months in a place with two seasons—hot and too hot—the accompanying puff of white air amped up the Home for the Holidays sensation. “Which also reminds me that I should mock you for needing a ginormous suitcase for one week, while I fit two weeks’ worth in a carry-on.”
Not that either of them were hauling their suitcases, as the dads relieved them of their baggage—despite Gavin’s protests that he could roll his own. “Oh, that’s right. You know how to pack a hundred outfits in a suitcase the size of a shoebox.”
“Not quite.” She liked to stick to strictly carry-on size, because along with being overly analytical, she was the tiniest bit of a control freak, but it almost hadn’t worked out this trip. Once she’d tossed in the hot pink bikini, everything else looked like that dreaded word she was really beginning to loathe: “boring.”
So yesterday between work and the game, she’d gone emergency shopping and bought a few sexy bra and panties sets so she’d be ready for fling action at a moment’s notice. She’d also bought a skimpy nightie. Preparation was key, and her ratty T-shirt and cat-print pajama pants didn’t exactly scream do-me-nice-and-hard.
Which again, she couldn’t get away with saying, regardless of it being completely accurate.
Perhaps she should wait and have her fling the next time she visited Gavin in San Antonio, because as she took in his size again, she thought that if anyone could fulfill a request like that, it’d be a guy with his stature and stamina. Obviously not him, but he had about fifty teammates to choose from, and surely one of them wouldn’t mind a night of helping her hit her sexual stride. Whatever it took to prevent being called lackluster ever again.
Her heart knotted, and she automatically rubbed at the aching spot in her chest.
“You okay?” Gavin asked.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about Jason Holt actually.”
Gavin’s whiskey-colored eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
