“Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s nice here. I’ve always been a big city girl, so this kind of quiet feels like a vacation for my brain.”
I smiled and tapped the steering wheel. “Well, don’t get too comfortable. I’ve got big plans.”
She tilted her head toward me, suspicious. “Big plans?”
“Hot cocoa taste test, drive-by Christmas lights judging, maybe a snowball fight if you're feeling brave.”
She smirked. “Should I be scared?”
I glanced at her, then back at the road. “Terrified. I take holiday spirit very seriously.”
“I’m not much of a holiday person.”
“I plan to change your mind in the next two days.”
I stole another glance at her—cheeks pink from the cold and lips you write poetry about even if you're terrible at it. Which I was, but fuck, she was that beautiful.
And yeah, this was fake. Technically. Contractually, even. But wanting her back at my house? That wasn’t pretend. Neither was the picture stuck in my head of her curled up in my bed, tangled up in my sheets.
“There’s been some work done on the place.” I turned onto my driveway and pulled under the big willow tree. “So it should look a little better than the last time you were here. Still not perfect, but it’s getting there.”
She tilted her head toward me. “I already love it.”
I shifted into park. “I have a little surprise, though. Close your eyes.”
Ellie raised a brow. “What kind of surprise?”
“The good kind. I hope.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“Just trust me.”
She raised a brow. “Is this when I get murdered?”
“I mean,” I said with a slow grin, “I wouldn’t complain about tying you up in some Christmas lights.”
She flushed pink, and my brain started doing that thing it shouldn’t: picturing her daring me back and calling my bluff. I gave a lazy wink, yanked the door open, and jogged for the porch.
I plugged in the Christmas lights, and the house exploded into a blinding, ridiculous glow. Then, I ducked inside to switch on the tree full of new ornaments, warm white lights, and ribbon Dotty claimed was tastefully rustic.
Had I gone too far setting this up for a house I was only crashing in for a few days? Maybe. But when Ellie told me she hadn’t put up a tree in years, something in me cracked.
I wasn’t sure the kind of man Harold was, and I didn’t need to know. Any guy who didn’t give this woman the most over-the-top Christmas magic possible wasn’t man enough for her.
Dotty had overseen most of the renovations while I was out of town. The whole place was cleaned, and the bedrooms were finished. Even the kitchen was stocked with three kinds of hot cocoa.
Yeah, I was that guy now.
When I came back out, Ellie was still in the truck, eyes dutifully closed, hands clasped in her lap. It seemed as if she was trying really hard not to smile, her lips jumping up at the corners.
I opened her door and leaned in. “Still closed?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, voice all soft and devastating all at once.
“Good girl.”
That devilish little smile of hers made my dick twitch. I cleared my throat and took her hand. I helped her out of the car and stepped behind her, covering her eyes.
