“Of course I'd love to be there,” Brandon says smoothly as his knee presses against mine under the table. “If Stella wants me there.”
“Of course she does,” my mother says with a knowing smile. “And Brandon, when you come home with Stella for Christmas—well, if you come home with her—you'll have to try my famous bourbon pecan pie.”
“When he comes home for Christmas?” I repeat, my voice pitched slightly higher than normal.
“If,” my mother corrects, though her tone suggests she's already planning the menu. “I'm just saying Brandon seems like the kind of man who'd fit right in with our family traditions.”
Brandon's hand finds mine on the table, and he tangles our fingers together. “I'd be honored to be included in any family traditions,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight. What is he doing? There's no way I'll be ready to bring a boyfriend home for Christmas.
“Stella!” A familiar voice pulls me away from the conversation, and when I look up, I see Ava St. James approaching our table, elegant as always in a black pantsuit.
“Ava, hi!” I stand to give her a quick hug, my mind racing. “What a lovely surprise.”
Her eyes drift curiously to our table, and I realize she's waiting for an introduction.
“Ava, I'd like you to meet my mother, Caroline Rhodes, and this is Brandon Grimaldi.” I pause, then realize I forgot the most important part. “My boyfriend.”
Yeah, there, that wasn't awkward at all.
Brandon stands and extends his hand with that devastating smile. “Ms. St. James, it's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, my goodness,” my mother breathes, clearly starstruck. “I'm such a fan of your work. I think I've seen every movie you've starred in.”
“You're very kind,” Ava says graciously, shaking hands with both of them. “I hope you're enjoying your evening.”
“We are, thank you,” Brandon says smoothly at the same time my mother says, “Very much so!”
“Wonderful. Well, I don't want to interrupt your dinner,” Ava replies with a warm smile. “I'll see you at Helena's premiere next week?”
“Yes, we'll all be there,” I say, feeling a little punchy that if Brandon feels good enough to invite himself to Christmas, he should be fine to attend a premiere with me next week.
After she leaves, I settle back in my chair. Something about the encounter makes me fidget with my napkin.
Brandon leans into me, and his hand covers mine. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I say, though I'm not entirely sure why the introduction made me feel so exposed. “Just mixing professional and personal, you know?”
His fingers squeeze mine gently, warm and reassuring. “I'm sure there's nothing to worry about.”
On our way out of the restaurant, my mother stops to use the restroom, leaving Brandon and me alone by the coat check. He's standing close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, can smell that cologne that's been driving me crazy all evening.
“You're really good at this,” I say quietly.
“Good at what?”
“The boyfriend thing. The touching, the sweet comments, making my mother fall in love with you.” I look up at him. “I almost believe it myself.”
“Stella, I—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder. “Shit.”
“What?”
Before I can turn around, his hand cups my jaw, and he's kissing me. Not a sweet, performative kiss for my mother's benefit, but something deeper, more urgent. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush with his body as his mouth moves against mine.
Holy shit, I'm kissing Brandon. Brandon is kissing me. And, oh, my God, he's incredible at this. No wonder half the women inLA have his number saved in their phones. This is not the casual peck I was expecting.
I'm so surprised I don't react at first, but then my hands find his chest, and I'm kissing him back, completely lost in the heat of his mouth. My fingers curl into his shirt as I lean into his lips shamelessly.
When we break apart, I'm breathless and slightly dazed, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts. “What was that for?”
