Page 22 of The Naughty List

I’m about to ask her if she wants me to come but I don’t want hear no if she doesn’t want me there. “I’d love to come; it’s not a problem at all for your fiancé.” I grin but she doesn’t seem enthused.

“Well, I’m done.” She tilts her mug to show me it’s empty. “I think I’m going to head up to bed.” I want to tell her to stay but I also want to follow her upstairs. Instead, I sit frozen, completely unsure how to handle this or what to do.

“Kate?” I say and she turns to look at me.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s vague at best and I fully expect her to ask what for, but her face tells me she knows. “For—everything.”

“Good night,” she says and then stops in her tracks. I think she’s going to ask me to join her but instead she turns and says, “And, Damon, it’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be fiancé with my friends. They won’t tell my family anything.”

I give her a tight-lipped nod and it feels like someone just stuck a knife in my heart. “Good night, Kate.” I smile as she walks away.

12

KATE

I brush the curls out of my hair; it falls in loose waves, tumbling over my shoulders and down my back. I slept alone again last night, Damon on the floor. I tossed and turned, debating on asking him to join me, but somewhere between my decision to talk myself out of it or say fuck it and jump him, I fell asleep.

Something is changing between us. The way he looks at me, the small, intimate touches between the overt, over-the-top kisses, send me spiraling down rabbit holes of what-ifs and maybes. But I always talk myself out of letting it be anything other than a fantasy. It’s like when you go away to summer camp and you swear the guy you met is the love of your life and you’re going to be best friends with the girls in your cabin forever, but then you go home and back to your real world and real life and it all fades away to just a memory.

“You look beautiful.” Damon’s voice interrupts my thoughts as I slick a plum-colored gloss over my lips. I turn to see him leaning against the door of the bathroom.

“Thanks.” I smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I let my gaze fall down the length of his body—he looks like a Christmas fantasy. Dark jeans hug his muscular thighs; the sleeves of his flannel shirt in shades of red and green are rolled to his elbows, exposing his forearms. This man knows exactly how to dress to emphasize his long legs, lean waist, and broad shoulders. Chris Evans who?

“So anything I should know before being thrown to the wolves tonight? Or maybe something I shouldn’t mention?” He runs his hand along his jaw seductively as his eyes roam over my body. I see him pause on my ass in the reflection of the mirror.

“Just be on your best behavior.” I give myself one last look in the mirror as I walk toward the door, my hips swishing a little more provocatively than normal. I decided to wear the skintight black jeans Damon packed me, complete with a dark-purple off-the-shoulder sweater that not only shows off my neck and collarbones, but my cleavage as well. I didn’t have the best shoes for the outfit but thankfully, my mom still had a pair of sexy thigh-high boots stashed in the back of her closet—I made a mental note to never ask myself what she wore them to.

“Always,” he says before adding, “especially when people don’t know me. First impressions and all that.” I pause as I walk by him and rest my hand on his chest, flashing him the same seductive, coy smirk he loves to give me.

“Oh, they already know about you, Damon Wells. Trust me… They’ve heard alllll about you.” And that look of oh shit on his face is exactly what I was going for.

* * *

We climb into the back of our Uber for the short ride to the bar. It’s quiet, the soft sound of Christmas jazz playing on the driver’s radio. The pungent smell of a cinnamon air freshener fills the car.

It’s a compact car, and our shoulders touch. But it isn’t because there is not enough room but because Damon chose to sit in the middle of the back seat. He leans closer to me, his mouth close to my neck.

“So how worried should I be meeting your friends? They going to surround me in the alley and jump me?” he teases.

I can smell his cologne, notes of amber and pepper, and it instantly transports me back to the night in my bathroom. I feel warmth spread through my body at the memory that I’ve had sex with my boss. I know it sounds ridiculous to forget something so momentous from just two days ago but it’s like I’ve compartmentalized it, convinced myself it didn’t happen.

“Don’t worry. After they took care of my first boss, they promised they wouldn’t do anything like that again. People were asking too many questions, Feds got involved,” I tease him back, waving my hand dismissively before flashing him a grin. “If Chad’s still alive, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

We thank the driver and exit the car in front of The Rowdy Farmer, the same bar my friends and I have been coming to for years. Someone exits and I can hear Mariah Carey crooning “All I want for Christmas” over the speakers.

“The Rowdy Farmer?” Damon asks, pointing to the large gold letters set against painted black brick.

“Hey, it’s small-town Illinois; what do you expect? The corny names are part of the charm. Corny,” I repeat, wiggling my eyebrows up and down to which Damon laughs and just shakes his head. We step inside and I glance around, spotting my friends in a corner high top table.

“Over there,” I say, pointing toward Todd who is waving us over. As we approach the table, my friends jump up, greeting me with hugs and air kisses. I start to remove my coat when I feel Damon’s hands helping me.

“Allow me,” he says, sliding the coat down my arms and placing it on my chair. All three of my friends have the same expression on their faces, one I’m not looking forward to dealing with.

“Damn, girl!” Todd says, whistling and pointing to my outfit. “You clearly came here to break hearts and necks dressed like that.”

I flick my hair over my shoulder dramatically and jut my hip out like I’m posing. “That’s the only thing I know how to do.” I laugh. I turn to Damon who has that look in his eyes again, the one that either says I want to punish you or I want to drag you to the back of this bar and have my way with you. I ignore it, turning back to my friends.

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