Page 32 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

Steven throws his head back and laughs.

“You’re too adorable.”

I flush at his comment, not knowing whether that was his way of saying I was a simpleton or an actual compliment.

“Miss Abby, look!” Aaron tugs at my sweater, wanting to show me the origami he made with the napkin.

I grin, “Is that supposed to be a boat?”

When he beams at me, I quickly rearrange my own napkin into a hat and put it on his head, “Now, you’re the Captain.”

I take out my phone, “Hold your boat up.”

Gleefully, Aaron holds up the boat and I quickly snap his picture.

“I look funny!” He laughs when I show it to him.

Our heads are close together, and I tell him, “You know what? I have a friend who owns a huge printer. I’ll ask her to blow this picture up in black and white, and you can hang it in your room and we can call it ‘The Captain’.”

Just then, I glance up and see Steven watching me.

Aaron slides from his seat, “Bathroom!”

I watch him walk away and then turn my head to meet his father’s gaze, “What?”

Steven shrugs, “I’ve never seen Aaron like this. He doesn’t usually get along with the women in my life.”

I eye him, “I’m not a woman in your life, Mr. Tanner.”

“I plan to change that.”

I give him a terse smile, “Well, I don’t.”

When his lips curve, I cross my arms over my chest, “I’m not fascinated by your money, Mr. Tanner. I don’t plan to throw myself into your arms just because you own a garage full of Jaguars and you eat millions for breakfast.”

His smile broadens, mirth in those gray eyes, “I don’t eat millions for breakfast, every day.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “You’re not my type, Steven.”

His smile flickers, “And what exactly is your type, Abby?”

There was a dangerous edge to that silky tone.

My crossed arms tighten, defensively, “Quiet and unassuming.”

I don’t know where those words came from, but I regretted them immediately, when he cocks a brow, and scoffs, “You’re into boring men?”

I open my mouth, and I wonder who was controlling my filter, “I’m into men who wouldn’t trample on my heart. I’m not into casual flings. So, no, you’re not my type.”

“You’re very assuming for someone who doesn’t even know me,” Steven says, with a bite in his tone.

Oh, so did I managed to rile him up?

Good.

Satisfaction settled in the pit of my stomach, knowing that I had ruffled his calm and composed surface.

I just stare at him, “Name one thing you know about me.”

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