I take the red dress into the bathroom to change, then grab my hair and makeup supplies and move to the small powder room off the kitchen so Dane can have the shower.
When I emerge thirty minutes later, he’s ready.
Despite the lingering heat, he’s in suit pants, a white button-down, and a Christmas tie.
His hair is slightly damp and freshly combed. He’s also freshly shaven, and he smells like a hayride on a Christmas tree farm.
I don’t want to go to this anniversary party.
I want to stay here and turn on some Bing Crosby and Brenda Lee and have a private party, just the two of us, where he offers up somemiraculous solution to my bakery problem that will work just as well as his plan to end our family feud.
He visibly swallows as his gaze rakes up and down my body, and his voice is husky when he says, “You look beautiful.”
I blush, a mix of pride and desire making my chest swell. “Thank you. Here. Let me just ...”
His tie isn’t crooked.
Not in the least.
But I go through the motions like I’m straightening it for him anyway.
His breath catches. Mine speeds up.
“Thank you,” he says, as if he doesn’t know it was absolutely fine.
Maybe he likes it when I make excuses to touch him while we’re alone.
“Do you have a large collection of Christmas ties, or do you stick to the snowflakes for general all-purpose winter wear?”
My voice is throaty. I might as well be purring.
Andall-purpose winter wear?
Still overthinking.
“Just snowflakes.”
My hands rest on his chest as I finish fiddling. Did I make it crooked? Or is it okay? Should we show up with his tie crooked to suggest that we were having our own private pre-party?
That would keep selling our story.
“I saw the most gorgeous snowflake dress once in a little boutique in SoHo. Your tie is like that dress in tie form.”
Someone take my mouth away from me.
Please.
Dane’s lips quirk up at the corners, though, and I suddenly don’t care that I’m babbling about dresses in tie form.
“You must have to beat potential girlfriends off with a stick when you smile like that,” I blurt.
Heblushes.
Could he be any more charming and perfect?
“I make sure to wear my pocket protector when I leave my house,” he says. “It helps.”
He could walk out of his house in a hazmat suit, and women should fall all over him.
