Page 7 of The Boyfriend Material Novellas

She shudders melodramatically. “I have no idea what that’s like.”

“Try it sometime. Maybe you’ll like it.” Yeah, I’m no good at being all business with Quinn.

“Not if I can help it,” she says, shaking her head emphatically.

“So how far does this planning fascination of yours extend?”

“Far and wide.” She points at me, leans closer, and drops to a whisper. “Confession: I looked you up online before dinner.”

That doesn’t help my resolve, that sexy little feather of a voice she’s put on. “And you still showed up. You’re a brave woman,” I say. Maybe some self-deprecation will slow this train for me.

“Please. Your team photos are great. You don’t lookthat different from your Renegades pictures at all.”

“Thanks.” I run a hand through my hair. “It was only three years ago, and I haven’t gained too much gray since.”

“Yeah, but the wrinkles. All those wrinkles. Such a bummer,” she says, deadpan.

I laugh. “It’s hard being almost thirty.”

She groans. “Then I should tell you that you have a great smile in photos, and in person too.”

“Thank you. The same goes for you.” I take a beat. “Well, I can only vouch for your in-person smile, since I’m not a stalker like someone else at this table.” I shift my eyes back and forth, then land on her, giving her a knowing look. “But I’m not naming names.”

She laughs, then brings her finger to her lips. “Thanks for keeping my dirty little secret.”

This is going to be one hell of a battle. The woman is sweet and ridiculously friendly, as well as deliciously flirty.

But I’m determined to stick to my diet, so I focus on the reason we’re here tonight. I drum my palms on the table to mark the topic shift. “So . . . Christmas parties, holiday fiestas, I’m your man. Christmas and I go way back. I’m a bit of an aficionado, I must admit.”

“Is that so? Do you have a collection of reindeer sweaters I should know about? A secret penchant for baking Christmas cookies late at night?”

“Who said it was a secret? Maybe I’m completely out in the open about my Christmas baking.”

She laughs like the chime of bells, and it’s so damn adorable. “Do you have those little cookie cutouts and a cute Christmas apron?”

“Yes, and I wear a red sweater with a Rudolph nose on it while I make spiced fruitcake.”

Her nose crinkles. “You didn’t just say that.”

I wink at her. “Just making sure you’re paying attention. I don’t hate anyone enough to give them fruitcakes. But I do make a most excellent gingerbread house.” I preen a little, then lean closer to let her in on a secret. “In fact, I don’t share this with just everyone, but I did win a gingerbread house contest when I was twelve.”

“Shut the front door. We are definitely going to feature your gingerbread skills at the party, then. In fact, I would pay good money to see you making gingerbread houses in that sweater.”

“Please. I don’t accept monetary compensation. However, you’re welcome to join me in putting the gumdrops on my culinary creation.”

She clasps her hand to her chest. “I’m invited to the baking fiesta? Lucky me.”

“As long as you bring the spiked hot chocolate.”

“As if I’d bring any beverages that weren’t spiked,” she says, a wicked look in her eyes.

“So you’re a naughty Christmas elf?”

“Hmm. Considering my childhood antics, I’d have to say yes.”

“You can’t drop a little nugget like that and not tell me more.” I wiggle my fingers, beckoning her to give it up. “Childhood antics—what were they?”

She shakes her head and zips her lips. “Nope. Another time.”

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