I wait, hip leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, for her to open it, but she doesn’t. She’s facing away from me, her attention focused on Dad as he opens a new set of cast-iron skillets from Mom, and I tighten my grip on the stem of my flute.
Is she seriously not going to open it?
Maybe she has some weird thing against presents—I don’t know. It’s possible. Then Mom hands Harlow a large gift wrapped in adorable reindeer. Harlow gratefully accepts the box and tears into it. I groan and chug my mimosa—the liquid burning my throat the whole way down.
So much for my apology.
I couldn’t be more thankful for the festivities to wrap up. I’m ready for Harlow to leave and forget how badly I messed up that whole situation. When Mom asks me to put away our serving dishes, I linger in the walk-in pantry where we store them. Bent over the counter, scrolling my phone, I check the time and decide to give it another five minutes just to be safe that the coast is clear and Harlow is gone.
“Why’re you hiding in here?”
I startle, letting out a small squeak, at Harlow’s voice. Whirling around, a flush rises in my cheeks and burns to the tips of my ears. Her lips curl in an amused smirk as she leans against the entryway of the pantry, her hand casually tucked into her pocket.
“I’m not hiding,” I lie.
“Okay.” She lets the word linger, showing how little she believes me before straightening and pulling out the little white box.
I squint before my eyes widen in shock. “You opened it?”
“Was I not supposed to?” she asks, a lilting tease to her voice. “Itdidhave my name on it.”
I sigh through my nose. “No. I just mean—you, well, you didn’t.” I stop, take a steadying breath, then say, “When I first gave it to you? So, I kind of assumed you weren’t going to.”
She shrugs. “Given our limited interactions—and how drastically different they were—I wanted to open it privately. You know, just in case.”
“Don’t trust me?” I cock one challenging eyebrow.
“Should I?”
I lift one shoulder, my expression turning coy.
She glances down at the gift, not taking the bait. She opens the box and holds up the souvenir magnet from TeresasTravels scavenger hunt I gave her. It’s the state of Michigan with the logo for the Burger Hut printed in the center with the year 2015 underneath it. Still within the box is the folded note that reads:
I’m sorry for being such an asshole. Merry Christmas. —L.
“Thank you for this,” she says, voice thick with meaning.
“It’s the least I could do.”
She nods once in acknowledgment, then slips the box back into her pocket. Her eyes slowly trail up my body, then snag on my chest. She licks her lips once before snapping her gaze up.
“You know, I’m onto you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my tone light and innocent, while at the same time tilting my chest up.
“That’s a great dress,” she says breathlessly.
“It’d look better on your bedroom floor.”
She meets my stare for a beat, then, slowly, she smirks.Harlow prowls toward me as if my words were the invitation she’s been waiting for. My lips part as I’m momentarily caught off guard, not expecting the taunt to have actually worked, before I recover quickly. Harlow stops, body flush with mine, as she bends to whisper, voice sharp and dangerously low, “You’d like that, huh?” Her lips brush the crown of my ear, and I inhale sharply. “You’d like a chance toprovehow sorry you are to me, wouldn’t you?”
I nod quickly. Eagerly. “Y-yes.”
She bends so her fingertips graze the side of my knee, and my breath itches. Her eyelids flutter shut as her hand trails further up the soft skin of my thigh. I part my legs for her. She chuckles low in her throat.
“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” She fingers the hem of my dress, and I whimper softly.
“You’d love the chance to make it up to me,” she whispers. Her fingers dip under my dress and stroke up my leg once before moving back down. I groan, the sound frustrated and desperate.
