Page 68 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“And how old are you?” I glance between the two of them. They can’t be more than forty.
Kai gently bumps my shoulder. It’s the first time he’s touched me since yesterday, and even that slight bit of contact makes my nipples hard. God, I need to get a grip. My body is acting like it’s never been around attractive men before. I have been, just not men who look more godlike than human.
“An Angel Boy never tells his age.”
Remi’s hand on my back twitches. “Angel Boy?” he asks.
“My tattoo,” Kai says. “She saw it last night.”
“Ah,” Remi replies, and I don’t miss the way his shoulders ease. Why did that make him tense?
“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” I ask as we round a corner and enter the room we were in earlier. The smell of garlic and parmesan fills my nose.
“How old do you think we are, love?” Remi asks as he pulls out my chair.
I study the square planes of his face, lit from the glow of the chandelier decorated with white Christmas lights. “I don’t want to offend you.”
Both Remi and Kai chuckle.
“You won’t offend us,” Kai says. He’s standing at the head of the table, an open door behind him leading to what I assume is the kitchen. He’s smiling and rubbing his fingers over his facial hair, and I’m reminded of how sexy his hands are.
I clear my throat. “Just tell me.”
“Guess,” he says again.
I fold my arms over my chest and really look at them. “Late thirties.”
Kai’s grin turns boyish, and he pushes some hair behind his ear. He reminds me a bit of Flynn Ryder fromTangled. He has his personality, too: carefree and fun, sweet and salty. “What if I told you were a lot older than that?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
He raises a brow. “I guess it’s our good skincare routine. Remi knows all the tips and tricks.”
I turn to Remi as he pulls out his own chair and sits next to me. It’s nothing fancy, but the ivory plates look like antique china, and I notice there’s also a bottle of white wine being chilled on the table. When I study Remi’s face, I do have to admit it looks flawless. Better than mine ever will.
“Who’s your surgeon?”
Both Remi and Kai cackle, but it was a serious question. They must be doing something other than great skincare to look the way they do.
“No surgeon. But do you want to know the trick to nice skin, love?” He leans down so his mouth is closer to my ear. “Sunscreen.”
I press my lips together. “That’s your secret?”
“One of many.”
The teasing lilt to his voice tells me he’s no longer talking about age-defying skincare routines.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Will you spill yours?”
“I’m thirty, and I use a good moisturizer.”
He laughs, the warm and broad sound filling the space. It tickles my insides and makes me lean closer to him. “Sunscreen, too, I hope.”
