Page 53 of Merry Me
Natalie huffed a small laugh, stabbing a piece of bacon withunnecessary force. “Right. Because that’s not the creepiest way you could’ve said that.”
Brian just grinned, clearly proud of himself.
“I mean it,” he went on, undeterred by her lack of interest. “You ever sit on Santa’s lap, Nat? ’Cause I’ve got a sleigh big enough for two.”
I nearly snapped my fork in half.
Natalie closed her eyes and massaged her temples like she could physically remove the trauma he was causing. “Brian, are you drunk?”
“Not yet,” he said smoothly, leaning closer with the world’s most confident smirk for a man in a fake white beard and jingle-bell suspenders. “But I’d love to jingle your bells later if you’re free.”
That was it.
That one didn’t even make sense.
It was time for him to go.
I shoved back my chair, the legs scraping against the floor so loudly that at least four people flinched and turned. Including Natalie.
“Easton?” She blinked, surprised.
But I wasn’t looking at her.
I was looking at Brian.
Brian, who was still grinning like this was some charming spectacle and not a public humiliation countdown.
I didn’t say a word. Just casually tossed my napkin down on my plate like I wasn’t seconds away from committing a misdemeanor.
Natalie barely spared me another glance, too busy trying to annihilate her breakfast like it had personally offended her entire bloodline. Which was fine. Perfect, actually. She didn’t need to be a witness.
I waited until Brian got up—probably to go admire himself in the bathroom mirror or rehearse his next horrifying holiday innuendo—and then I followed him. Quietly. Calmly.
Kind of like a psychopath.
He had just pushed open the bathroom door when I picked up my pace, shoving in right behind him before he even knew I was there.
“Dude, what the?—”
He didn’t get the rest of that sentence out because I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him toward the utility closet next to the sinks.
Brian barely had time to blink before I yanked the door open, shoved him inside, and slammed it shut.
“What the hell?!” His voice was muffled through the wood. “Easton? What the fuck, dude, let me out!”
I snapped the lock on the outside, just to be safe, and grinned like the unhinged ex-boyfriend rom-coms had warned Natalie about.
I knocked twice on the door for good measure. “I’d love to, Bri. But Santa’s got a schedule to keep.”
“Easton, you crazy bastard, let me out!” he shouted, pounding like he was in a horror movie and not a cleaning supply prison of his own making.
I adjusted my sleeves, took one last satisfied look at the vibrating door, and strolled out of the bathroom like I had all the time in the world.
Brian was going to be busy with a mop for a while.
And me?
I had a girl to win back.
