Page 28 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Her gaze lands on me, and she quirks an eyebrow, grinning. “Isla, you’re up! Let’s see if you can top that dramatic performance.”
I scan the pile, pretending to weigh my options, but I know exactly which item I want—the one wrapped in glittery pink paper that Willow uses every year.
Leaning toward the table, I pick up the soft package, already daydreaming about the comfortable sleep I’ll get in my newest nightwear addition.
I tear away the wrapping to reveal an oversized grey T-shirt stamped with an image of a shirtless Santa. He’s flexing like a bodybuilder, flaunting carved pecs and stacked abs. His toy sack dangles strategically in front of his groin. Across the front, bold red letters read:This Daddy is Too Big to Fit Down Your Chimney.
Lifting the garment in front of my face, I burst into a fit of giggles, and everyone follows suit, cracking up around me.
“Willow!” I squeal. “This is even better than last year’s! The fabric is unbelievable.” I run my fingers over it and sigh. “I’m convinced it’s made from actual clouds.”
“I know!” Willow nods in agreement, clearly pleased with herself. “Cotton & Chaos only uses the best organic materials. By the way, I chatted with the owner about you. She’s outsourcing the art now but wants to hire someone local forfuture designs. Her goal is to bring in a Sugarpine Springs vibe. Remind me to pass on her info.”
“That sounds amazing,” I say, my voice full of gratitude. The prospect of another connection is invigorating. Plus, having a champion in Willow? Extremely humbling. “Thanks!”
“Hand it over, Sunshine.” Theo’s deep voice—along with a nickname I figured he’d long forgotten—snags my attention.
He’s sitting across from me, reclined casually against the wall, one knee propped up with his legs splayed in a way that radiates effortless confidence. I’ve been doing my best to avoid looking his way throughout the game, but my traitorous gaze keeps drifting. It’s not my fault the man commands a presence with a capital P.
“What?” I choke out.
“You heard me.” He waves a card in the air that indicates that he’s next in line to pick or steal a present. “I’m taking the shirt.”
A chorus ofoohsbreaks out around the room.
“Damn.” Asher laughs. “Teddy woke up and chose violence!”
I tighten my grip on Pornstar Santa. “No way. I’m not giving this baby up.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Theo holds out his hand, palm up, the corner of his lips twitching. “Rules of the game, Sunshine.”
Once again, the nickname sends a jolt through me. He coined it when I was eighteen, living under a perpetual raincloud in an attempt to infuse light into my life. The term has lain dormant for years.
Until now.
We share a look, but I’m too afraid to prolong the eye contact, terrified I’ll read too much into his expression and see what I want to see instead of the truth our reality holds.
My fingers tighten around the shirt. “You’re really going to steal from me? Of all the gifts here,thisis what you want?”
“Yes.” He leans forward, his forearm resting on his knee, and my eyes follow the flex of his muscles beneath his sweater. “It’s the only thing I want.” He wiggles his fingers in a silent, almost teasing invitation.
I frown. “Why? What do you plan on doing with it?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs one shoulder. “But your endorsement makes me think I should keep it at my place to pull out when my girlfriend sleeps over.”
“Girlfriend?” The word slips out before I can stop myself.
A moment of silence ensues, the festive chatter pausing to let my question hang in the air.
Great.
Thanks, everyone.
“You have a girlfriend?” My mouth continues to run ahead of my brain. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
My cheeks flush as Theo’s smirk sharpens, his green eyes glinting with amusement.
Rowan snorts from the couch, breaking the tension. “Knowing him, it’s some girl who’s good at fondling his brand strategy and deep thro—I mean, deepdivinginto market segmentation.”
