Page 43 of Unwrapping Their Christmas Present

Truly, it was the best way to ride the elevator.

“No need to thank me,” I said. “Consider yourself invited to my condo whenever the mood strikes you.”

She waggled her eyebrows at me. “That’s a dangerous offer, Mr. Porter,” she flirted.

How had I not kissed her yet? I cupped her face and brought my lips to hers. We kept it light—this was a public elevator, after all—but when I pulled away, she had that pleasantly gazed look about her that I loved. “I’ve considered the danger, Ms. Beechum,” I said, “and I’ve decided it’s worth the risk.”

Alex grinned like I’d just said the right answer to a question she hadn’t asked, but before I could taste that smile like I wanted, the elevator stopped at my floor and we walked out. Once we were in my condo, I showed her where the snacks were and helped to get her Wi-Fi on her laptop set up.

For the next hour or so, we worked side by side at my dining room table. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and salsa that we shared, but besides that, it was just working in the quiet.

Finally, Alex stretched and popped her back. “I need to take a break,” she announced. “If I keep reading the word ‘torts’, I may lose my mind.”

I laughed and looked at my own work. I could take a breather too. “How do you feel about trashy reality TV?” I asked.

Alex’s honey eyes shone with excitement. “Are you caught up onTheBachelor?”

I shook my head. “I missed this week’s episode.” I gestured to my living room and television. “Want to watch it?”

She was already bounding over to the couch. “Bring the salsa and chips,” she chirped back to me. “It’s time to watch drunk girls make poor life decisions!”

With our snacks deposited on the coffee table, I stretched out beside her and opened the apps so that I could queue the show up.

“Do you think he’s going to pick the one from Illinois? The one with the ‘British’ accent that is so fake?”

I glanced at her. “Why in the world would he pick her when he could pick Gwenna? She’s hotanda good person.”

“Fake British Accent has bigger boobs.”

I choked on a laugh. “She has a name, you know,” I pointed out. “Kelly or something like that.”

She waved me off. “I don’t learn the names of anyone who doesn’t make the top three.”

“Monster,” I murmured, and she giggled. As the episode progressed, Alex went from sitting beside me to lying down with her head in my lap. My fingers played with the long, blonde tresses, and she sighed in contentment when I scratched her scalp. “Kelly is definitely not getting a rose tonight,” I said as the show got to the big moment, the Rose Ceremony.

“Gwenna,” Alex countered. “He finds her boring.”

I clutched at my shirt like I was clutching at pearls. “Howdareyou?” I asked and promptly took the chip out of her hand and pushed it into my mouth in a single, somewhat painful, bite.

But, a few minutes later, Gwenna did get sent home, and in the after-interview, the bachelor called her a “great girl” but said he didn’t feel the chemistry between them. I turned off the TV with a click of the remote. “What a jerk,” I muttered.

“Told you,” Alex practically sang.

“Oh, you told me?” I reached over and tickled her. She curled up, giggling and trying to fight me off, but I was persistent. “You told me? What else do you ‘tell me’?”

Through her laughter, she said, “I love you!”

I stopped. The world stopped. Everythingstopped. “Say that again,” I said, staring into her wide, surprised eyes.

“I love you,” she said again and sat up enough to kiss me softly. “I’m in love with you.”

I dropped down, kissing her like she was oxygen in an airless room. “I love you,” I told her again and again. “I love you.”

I didn’t know what I’d done in a previous life, but I was a stupidly lucky man. After some kissing that didn’t lead anywhere, I curled myself around her back, and we picked out another trashy reality TV show to watch. This show, some kind of baking something or other using amateur bakers, we watched from the beginning, and it was a promise that we would finish it together as well. While it played, I whispered the correct recipes in her ear. “These people have no idea what they’re doing.”

“I think that’s the point,” she murmured back. Neither of us knew why we were being so quiet, but it was as nice as being curled around her. “You need to get back to work.”

I nipped at her shoulder. Not hard, just enough for her to squeak. “You should get back to studying,” I countered.

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