“Don’t you worry, Nick. We’re not having any fun at all. In fact, let the record show that Graham Holiday is the last person on the planet I could possibly have any fun with.”
“We’ll see.” He looks to Graham. “You’d better steer clear of her if you do want to have any fun. She’s not only a premier baker, but she’s the best matchmaker this side of the Mississippi, and it just so happens to be her busy season with both.” Nick takes off with his jaw set in a scowl, clearly unconvinced by my declaration, but judging by that sour expression on Graham’s face, he’s more than a believer.
“It’s not possible for us to have any fun,” I repeat firmly as a fact. “Isn’t that right?” I bat my lashes up at him, and he takes a breath.
“Anything you say, Sprig.” His cobalt eyes catch over mine, and a fire rakes through me.
“You know I hate that nickname.”
“Yeah”—he slings his arm around my shoulders as we watch Noel jump and leap as she chases the reindeer to and fro—“but you know you love me.”
“All ego all the time. What’s not to love?” I take a bite from my cookie and swallow down a laugh because suddenly the moment grows all too serious. I shake myself out of the trance that his eyes keep trying to suck me into and force myself to stare into the corral.
Soon enough, Graham will realize what a catch he has in Sabrina, and he’ll whisk her away to the other side of the country. That should be the only thing I focus on. For sure I shouldn’t be focusing in on Graham Holiday’s ocean blue eyes.
Nope. Graham belongs to Sabrina. He is simply a means to a blissful Sabrina-free end.
Isn’t he?
