Page 65 of The Naughty List

I type out a quick response and hit send.

Me: Thank you. It’s like you always know just what I need to hear at just the right time. Never apologize for being honest with me about things you see that I’m too blind to notice…or that I willingly avoid. You’re more than just a friend, you’re my sister and I love you too. Merry Christmas.

After putting my phone face down on my nightstand, I roll over to catch some sleep.

* * *

I’m not sure I’m at all ready for today. Spinning around in front of my full-length mirror, I double-check my outfit of jeans and a simple ivory sweater. I pull my hair back then let it fall back down, completely overthinking how I look.

I check the time.

“Shit!” It’s already almost seven, which is when Alex said he was going to pick me up. I opt to leave my hair down and put on some simple gold hoops and a matching chain before grabbing a pair of brown ankle boots. I’m hopping on one foot, attempting to zip up the second boot when I hear a knock at my front door.

I swing it open, and there he is. Alex is wearing a pair of black slacks, a chunky red sweater, and a black peacoat, and looking every inch the part of a handsome lead in a Hallmark movie, complete with snowflakes dotting his shoulders.

“Hi.” He smiles, and my stomach instantly coils into a knot of nerves and excitement.

I smile back, opening the door a little wider. “Hi. Is it snowing?”

“Yup, seems like it snowed through the night, there’s a few inches on the ground but the plows are out. Merry Christmas,” he adds, holding out a small gold box wrapped with a red ribbon.

I smile wider as I take the box from him, and he steps inside. “You didn’t have to get me anything, I feel bad now.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing huge. Just made me think of you when I saw it.”

“Should I open it now?”

“Of course.” He slides his hands in his pockets and watches me. There’s a look in his eyes I don’t think I’ve seen before, or at least, haven’t noticed. A look I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s like he’s seeing me in a completely different way.

I slide the ribbon off the box and lift the lid. Inside is an ornament of Lindsay Lohan, Amanda Seyfried, Rachel McAdams, and Lacey Chabert dressed in their sexy Santa Claus outfits they wore in Mean Girls for their rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.”

I laugh as I stare down at the ornament. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. Plus”—he reaches out and brushes my hair back from my face—“you’ve almost got the red hair.” He winks.

“Thank you, and Merry Christmas.” I stand there awkwardly, unsure if I’m supposed to kiss him. Before I can decide, he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me to him.

“Come here.” His lips find mine and he kisses me softly for several seconds before his tongue slides inside my mouth. Every single time he kisses me, my body comes alive. I want the sensation to linger, want it to build into more, but he pulls back. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, just let me grab my coat and purse.”

I rummage through my purse and pull out my keys to lock the door behind us before leading the way downstairs. “My car is just across the street,” I say as we exit the building, pointing to where I’m parked. The fresh snow crunches beneath our boots, and the clean, frosty winter air is refreshing.

“I’m driving,” he says, lifting his keys to unlock his black Range Rover. “You were kind enough to invite me, so it’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you.” I reach for the handle, but he beats me to it. His chest brushes against my back as he leans around me to open the door. I laugh nervously.

He holds my hand as I climb inside. “Tim not open doors for you?”

I think back, trying to remember. “No, I don’t think so.”

Alex doesn’t respond before closing my door. He walks around the SUV and slides into the driver’s seat. I give him my parents’ address and he types it into his GPS.

He reaches out for my hand and our fingers intertwine, staying that way as we leave the city, and we ride in comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes.

“So how did you spend Christmas growing up?” I ask, curious to learn more about him.

“My mom was very loving and nurturing, but she was also raised in a very traditional, wealthy family who didn’t do a lot for celebrations. Christmas was more of an adult’s thing in my house. My parents would throw really lavish parties; it almost felt like it was to show off their wealth rather than celebrate friends and family. I spent pretty much every Christmas with our kitchen staff.”

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