Page 135 of Plays Well With Others

She’s a Christmas gift.

Just look at my Rachel walking toward me, the way she wears those jeans that hug her long legs and snuggle against her fantastic hips. Check out that chestnut hair curling over her shoulders. And how about that smile tilting her pretty lips, the twinkle in her eyes, and the radiance of all her upbeat…Rachel-ness.

Yup. It only gets better, falling for your best friend.

Especially when she’s wearing the fuck out of a cute pink knit hat with a snowflake design. I swear, it’s almost as sexy as lingerie, the way it’s tugged down over her hair, letting those soft brown strands curl around her shoulders. Lip gloss shines on her lips. I want to kiss it off. And do other bad things to her.

When she reaches me, I pull her in for a kiss. “Mmm. Missed these lips,” I say.

“You kissed me this morning when I left,” she teases.

“Doesn’t matter. Kissing you is my favorite thing,” I say. But wait. “Well, that’s not completely true. I have a lot of favorite things I do with you…Fucking you, hanging out with you, spending the night with you.”

“What do you know? Those are my favorite things too.”

When I let go, I catch the scent of her hair. Orange blossoms. I told her how much that scent turned me on, and I don’t think she’s stopped wearing it since.

Works for me.

“Now tell me what’s so special about The Spotted Zebra tonight?” she asks eagerly. I told her the bar had something different planned, but I didn’t tell her what. That’s part of how to romance your woman. A little intrigue goes a long way.

“You’ll find out soon,” I tell her, then we head inside the bar, ready for a little “how to date at Christmas.”

I can’t get enough of the holidays, from the lights to the music to the decorations. It’s a feast for the senses.

We head inside to record this special edition of the How to Date series. I admit, this isn’t entirely altruistic. There are benefits for me, too, like an excuse to impress my girl as often as I can.

The sign over the bar proclaimsHot Cocoa Tasting, and when Rachel sees it, she spins around with a beaming smile and a hand over her heart. “You so get me.” Another tally in the “win” column.

We amble closer to where the bar is offering spiked cocoa with names likeLick My Lips, Melt in My Mouth,andWith Extra Cream.

“This is giving me all sorts of ideas,” I say.

“Oh, you already had those ideas,” she says.

“That is true.”

And one of those ideas involves mistletoe. Just wait till she sees.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I’m camped out on the chichi black-and-white-striped couch in the corner, enjoying a mug of cinnamon hot chocolate spiked with Irish Cream, and time with Rachel. As she sets down her mug of Lick My Lips, she tells me about the store and how well it’s going this holiday season.

Such a welcome change from how she felt a few months ago.

Another welcome change? The Renegades’ record is no longer solid. It’s stellar, and knock on wood, we’re likely to snag a playoff spot.

“I think you’re my good-luck charm,” I tell her. “We haven’t lost at home since I made you mine.”

“Then I’d better keep coming to your games,” she says.

“And coming,” I say.

But before I get too caught up in innuendo, I want to show the world—or really, the world of Date Night—how to have an awesome holi-date.

I take out my phone, then tell her to turn to the bar. Yeah, I like to impress my girl.

Rachel

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