Page 2 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

“Uh-huh.” Delilah opened her car door, giving him a little wave. “Be good.”

“See ya.” He turned back around and took off, disappearing out of sight.

Delilah climbed into her car and took a deep breath, her troubles still weighing on her mind. The polite rejection letter from Skylark Publishing yesterday was branded into her brain, bringing the total to four publishers who wanted nothing to do with her paranormal romance series. Her agent had taken her books out on submission before Halloween, but there were no takers.

She started the car and pulled onto the road, taking a left at the stop sign into downtown Mistletoe. Delilah wanted to hold out hope that the last publisher they subbed to would come back with an offer, but if there hadn’t been a blip of interest from the others, why would this one be any different?

Although substitute teaching and submitting freelance articles paid her bills, Delilah had wanted to write epic world-building romances with dark, brooding heroes and strong, independent heroines since middle school. She’d finished her first series at nineteen but tucked those manuscripts away on a thumb drive. She’d written six more books after that, but it wasn’t until she’d finished this last series that she’d drummed up the nerve to query several agents and had two interested in her. She’d gone with Beth because she was young and hungry, just like Delilah. When Delilah had asked her agent about her previous manuscripts, she’d said they didn’t have a strong enough hook.

Her stomach twisted into knots, realizing that this could be her first and only chance to achieve her dream, and it wasn’t looking good.

She pulled into the parking lot off the side road next to Kiss My Donut, grumbling internally about all the cars taking up the prime parking spots. Delilah whipped the Subaru into the first space she found, wrinkling her nose when she realized she’d taken the slot in front of Adventures in Mistletoe. The store was still dark, which eased some of her anxiety, because that meant the owners weren’t in yet. Although bumping into Pike Sutton, with his cute dimples and sparkling blue eyes, wouldn’t be the end of the world, sharing the same space with his business partner would be the cherry on top of today’s crap sundae.

Pike had been the subject of her fantasies since she was a moody twelve-year-old wearing too much eyeliner. Back in the day, when others would tease him for his red hair or short stature, he took the flaws others saw and owned them, embracing his uniqueness like she had with hers. They were kindred spirits. There was four years between them, which wasn’t a lot as adults, but between middle school and high school, Pike had never looked at her as anything more than his friend’s little sister’s best friend.

Delilah laughed out loud. What a complicated way of putting it.

Maybe if they’d been thrown together at some point in their adult lives and he’d gotten to know her one-on-one, he might have seen her differently. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Pike’s name she’d pulled last year during their friends’ combined bachelor/bachelorette weekend. Instead, she’d been paired with Anthony, who was everything she’d learned to despise. A gorgeous jock who looked through women like her, or worse, mocked them for their flaws. At least, that was what she’d assumed, since the man had never said more than two words to her before that weekend.

It had taken less than half an hour of working together during the scavenger hunt to realize Delilah may have misjudged him. Anthony had jumped in alongside her, competitive and funny, and incredibly sweet, which was something she hadn’t expected from him. He had a keen mind for riddles and a vocabulary that rivaled her own. Not to mention he was strong. When she’d slipped on a patch of ice, he’d caught her before she hit the ground.

“I got you,” Anthony said, wrapping his strong arms around her.

Delilah ignored the shiver that raced down her spine at the memory of those hard bands of muscly sinew imprinting on her body. Delilah knew her reaction to Anthony was ridiculous, but throughout that night, she’d foolishly compared him to the book boyfriends she’d obsessed over since she’d picked up her first romance novel. Her real-life experiences with men had been eclectic, but none had measured up to the possessive heroes she’d read about in books. Did she realistically want a dragon lord who would throw her over his shoulder and keep her locked away so no one else could look at her? No, but Anthony taking her hand to help her down the bus’s stairs when they’d arrived at the rental house that night made Delilah’s core burn brighter than any spicy scene she’d ever read.

Looking back, Delilah had no idea what she’d expected to happen when she suggested they swipe a bottle of Fireball from the liquor tote and go to her room. But if she’d known how the evening would end, Delilah would have skipped it and stayed downstairs with the group. Saved herself a spoonful of humiliation.

The events of that night played through her mind like a bad movie, and once it started, she couldn’t stop the memories from surfacing.

Sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, Delilah giggled as she refilled her shot glass and some liquid sloshed over the side.

“Oh, shit, party foul!” Delilah downed the shot and passed the bottle and glass to Anthony before she grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be her sweatshirt, to soak up the alcohol from the floor.

“You need to keep your hand steady. Like this,” he said, holding the bottle at an angle as he filled his glass. Not a drop was spilled. “Perfect!”

“Braggart,” Delilah muttered, leaning her head back as the liquor spread warmth from the center of her body outward. “I think we should pause the drinking, or you may be holding my hair back later.”

Anthony took off his hat, ran a hand over his short, dark hair. “I don’t have that problem. I could chug rotgut and get up the next day with a smile on my face.”

Delilah wrinkled her nose. “Why would you ever drink anything called rotgut?”

“Because I was underage and it was free?”

Delilah giggled. How had she never realized that Anthony was so funny? Or was that the whiskey talking?

“Why haven’t we ever hung out like this?” she asked.

“We’ve never been paired for a combined bachelor slash bachelorette scavenger hunt before,” he said, grinning. “Say that three times fast.”

Delilah gave it a try but fumbled on the first line. She fell against Anthony’s shoulder, which was shaking with laughter. He had a nice laugh, all deep and rumbly, and it did things to her nethers.

Nethers? She nearly snorted. She really was drunk.

“Seriously, though,” she said, when their mirth subsided. “I thought you were just a broseph jock.”

“I’m not?” He gasped in mock outrage. “I was planning on having that tattooed on my ass.”

“I would pay to watch that.” Her face flushed when she caught his grin, realizing it sounded like she wanted to see his bare butt. “No, I mean—”