“What…”
“Meatballs and spinach dip,” Ginny says with a grin. “They changed the name on the shots tonight, too.”
“Shots? Like liquor shots?” I ask.
“Of course. They make the karaoke way more fun,” she says.
“Karaoke—” I start.
“Of course there’s karaoke,” she says. “Christmaskaraoke.”
“The Santa shots have peppermint schnapps in them,” Charlie says. “They’re awesome.”
“The Jingle Bell is the best,” Margot says. “It’s like spiked hot chocolate.”
“My favorite is the Slide Down My Chimney,” Ginny tells me. “Cinnamon Apple. But there are lots of options.”
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are sparkling, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her look more gorgeous. Except, of course, around the table with her family at Thanksgiving. And coming apart in my bed in Denver. She was gorgeous even whenshe was chewing my ass outside her mom’s house when she realized who I was.
“I’m in. Onallof it,” I tell her.
I can tell by the flicker of emotion in her eyes that she realizes I don’t mean just Christmas karaoke and Santa shots.
She wets her lips, but then says, “Just so you know, Harlow and I have an entire dance routine to our karaoke of Santa Baby. You’ll never beat us.”
“That’s a competition too?”
She scoffs. “Of course.”
“Well, I can’t wait to see it,” I tell her. “But be prepared,” I add. “My version of Jingle Bell Rock will bring a tear to your eye.”
Her grin is wide and bright.
Graham chuckles. “It really is that bad.”
Everyone laughs, and then the men claim the table next to ours, scraping stools over to it, calling out orders to Jack who is on his way to the bar, and arranging themselves with Graham on one side of me, and David on the other.
Yes, somehow in the mayhem, I end up seated at the guys’ table, eating reindeer balls, taking three Santa shots, and losing Christmas trivia to Ginny’s team by only one question—which I botch on purpose because no one takes Ginny’s crown away on my watch.
CHAPTER 9
GINNY
I hearthe front door open.
Please be Graham. Please don’t be Everett. Please be Graham. I can’t handle being alone with Everett.
Then I bite the head off the frosted angel sugar cookie I’m holding.
Ishould beable to handle being alone with Everett. Over the next several years, working together, we’re probably going to be alone together a few times. My heart can not get all tangled up every single time.
Of course, we were not alone at the Come Again for the past couple of hours, but here I am, heart tangled up anyway.
I can’t believe I’m jealous.
But I fucking am.
“I was hoping you’d still be awake.”
