Page 8 of Mr. Mistletoe
Ingrid ribs me about kissing a stranger, but her voice is background noise. My focus is locked on Jess.
Her phone-addicted date pins me with a glare. “You want her?” he sneers, standing up. “She’s all yours, asshole.”
The word cuts through the roar of the arena like a slap. Around us, the crowd erupts as the Stingers sink another three-pointer. I should be performing the secret handshake with Ingrid. I should apologize.
But I don’t. Because I’m not sorry I kissed her.
Jess shoots to her feet, purse clutched tight. “I’m not a possession to pass around,” she snaps, tossing her ponytail like a whip as she storms into the aisle.
We both watch her go, fire blazing in every step.
“Are you going after her?” I ask.
He scoffs. “That woman is more trouble than she’s worth.”
Trouble? Maybe. Worth it? Absolutely.
I swivel toward Ingrid, brow raised.
“What are you waiting for?” she says, confirming the truth already pounding in my chest.
I push past the loser who couldn’t be bothered to look up from his phone and take the stairs two at a time, weaving through strangers and bumping shoulders. My pulse hammers louder than the announcer’s voice booming over the speakers.
She’s almost through the exit when I call her name.
She freezes, her hand on the metal bar of the door. The fluorescent light above flickers, throwing her face into shadow for a beat, then her head snaps up, eyes flashing like a storm.
“You don’t have to rescue me,” she bites out. “I’m no damsel in distress.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to make myself smaller, less threatening. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Color blooms across her cheeks, gorgeous and infuriating. “I kissed a stranger in front of my date. No, I’m not okay.”
I smother a smile. “I can’t believe we did that.”
Her finger jabs my chest. “It’s your fault.”
“My fault? How?”
“You’re too attractive.”
A laugh bursts from me, unguarded, and damn it feels good. She makes me feel good—when I should be feeling guilty.
“Thank you.”
She huffs, crossing her arms, but her eyes flick over me like she can’t help herself. “My brother is never going to let me live this down.”
“Neither is my sister. She’s probably already texting my mom.” I groan, feeling a whisper of regret for the first time. “And my cousin. And half the town.”
Her frown deepens, a little dent forming between her brows. “I’m sorry. But not really.”
That kiss might have caused more than a chink in the reputation I’d worked hard to restore. I think about the damage, and then dismiss it. I’m not that man who used to run through women like snacks. I don’t even date.
“I’m sorry too,” I say, fighting off a grin. “But not really.”
She narrows her eyes at me—two bright blue lasers looking all the way through my protective layers. “Why do you have to be sweet and attractive? Guys like you leave guys like Kyle absolutely no chance.”
“His loss.” I step closer, heat mounting between us.
