“Ohh boy.”
My eyes snap to Bridget. “What?”
Her gaze trails after Hugh as he leaves. “Those eyes. That smile. The accent.” She blows out a long breath, and I half expect her to fan herself.
“Not sure David would appreciate you lusting after Santa,” I say.
Bridget rolls her eyes, following it with a short laugh. “David has absolutely nothing to worry about, and we all know it.Youon the other hand…” She shakes her head and skewers me with a steady gaze. “You claim you don’t have a type, but you do and he’s it. You’ll deny it, say you can’t be with him because he’s your boss, or he’s a bit older than us, or you’re not interested in dating. But just like I know he’s your type, I also know what I saw when he looked at you: he likes you.” She plants her elbows on the table and rubs her hands together. “This should be fun.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that, but I do know she’s enjoying this way too much. Because she’s right: Hughismy type, and I’d be lying if I said he doesn’t make me feel fluttery in various parts of my body.
I don’t want to get my hopes up, though. Bridget said she could tell Hugh likes me, but he’s an open, friendly guy. I didn’t sense that he treated me any differently than he did her, or any of the girls who work with me. For all I know, he could be a player whose aim is to bag as many elves as possible.
“I know this is rich coming from me, but stop overthinking,” Bridget says, reaching across the table to tap the back of my hand. “Be open and see what happens.” She clears her throat. “Now. Very important question.”
“Shoot.”
“Apple crisp with French vanilla ice cream or blueberry cheesecake?”
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. After all these years of friendship, I know this isn’t the end of the Hugh discussion. Not by a long shot. I’m used to abrupt changes in conversation, though, and I’m guilty of it often enough myself. I guess right now dessert takes precedent. “Both. Duh.”
