Page 20 of The Boyfriend Material Novellas

“I do. And I dig that it’s decorated.”

“Is there anything better than Christmas decorations?”

I let out a long, low whistle. “As long as they don’t go up in July.”

“Wait. Is there a secret Christmas past you’re hiding from me?” she asks, her tone drenched in curiosity.

I set a hand on her arm and take a deep breath. “We’re going to need a drink for this conversation.”

“Then I’d say it’s time for cocktails, since I don’t want to call it a night yet.”

And I might be falling.

Oh hell, who am I kidding?

I’m falling so damn fast.

8

QUINN

We head for the hotel bar, snagging a quiet booth in the corner where we park ourselves on a royal-blue cushioned couch and order.

After the waitress brings two vodka tonics, Vaughn takes a deep breath then runs his hands through his dark hair. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Are you ready?”

I nearly bounce on the cushion. I’m dying to know. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“Ever wonder about those crazy Christmas houses in the neighborhood? You know the ones—where they start setting up in July, and every single room is decked out in a Christmas theme.”

“Yes,” I say, my eyes bugging out. “There was one like that where we grew up. We used to drive by and gawk at it every year.”

His dark eyes twinkle. “And they’re full of Christmas displays. Trains bringing toys to Santa’s workshop. Small towns covered in snow.”

“Reindeer across the lawn and a sleigh on the roof.”

“And there are three, four, five . . . I could never keep count of how many Christmas trees we had set up in every room.”

I don’t say anything for a few seconds. Then the enormity of his statement registers. “Nooo. For real?” I’m so excited, I’m shaking. I’ve always wanted to know someone who lived in a crazy Christmas house. “You? You lived in one?”

He nods, solemn, as if we’re in a confessional. “Every square inch of the lawn decorated in reindeers and giant snowmen. And sleighs . . . so many sleighs. There are candy canes everywhere. You can’t escape them. And the price of admission to see inside helps support the extravagant electricity bill. That was my house growing up.” He taps his broad, muscular chest. “My parents were, and still are, absolutely obsessed with Christmas.”

I stifle a squeal. “You lucky duck. I would have loved a Christmas house.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, taking a swallow of the vodka tonic.

“Didn’t you? I’m sure there were moments when it was too much, but mostly it sounds like a blast for kids.”

His smile spreads, slow and easy. “I’ll admit it was kind of fun.”

“See? I knew it. But how does something like that start? Where’s your mom from, the North Pole?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No, she was born in Thailand. Her dad is from Bangkok. Her mom is from Portugal. My dad’s family is all from Virginia, and my parents recently retired to Florida when Callie moved there, and Aubrey too.”

“All right, so no members of your family are from the Arctic Circle.”

“Nope. Not even close.”

I scoot a little closer, enjoying getting to know him. Enjoying this whole night, in fact. Considering how well Vaughn and I clicked the first time we met, maybe it’s no surprise how much I like spending time with him. And I’ve loved this whole business meeting so far, even when I wasn’t quite sure how to respond over the whole “do I have your number” thing.

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