Page 25 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

Warmth rushed through him and he relaxed, glancing away from the road to smile at her. “Would I get smacked if I said I agreed with your dad?”

Anthony caught the roll of her eyes in the street light. “No, but that’s only because I’d flash you in the process. Can’t punish and reward you at the same time.”

Her tone was lighthearted and playful, but his imagination ran wild thinking about what was going on under the blanket. He’d have to be oblivious not to notice how big her tits were and while he’d tried not to, he’d pictured what they looked like a time or two. His cock strained against the confines of his jeans as he pictured large, rosy nipples and areolas contrasting against her creamy skin. He made a jerky left turn on Spruce, trying to remember what they’d been talking about before.

Delilah cleared her throat. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re fine. I was just thinking”—Don’t say about her breasts!— “I was luckier than a lot of young people. I was paid well in a job that I jumped right into after high school. I was able to get grants for college and pay out of pocket for what was left, so I have no debt. I spent some of the money I earned getting Adventures in Mistletoe off the ground, but I was able to sell my mom’s house for a nice profit, making up the difference. I miss my mom, but she always said that house was a constant reminder of my dad. She’d have moved if she could have been able to afford it.”

He hung a left into her driveway and put the truck into park, leaving it on so the heater could run. “Looks like Holly dropped off the car and went home.”

“I told her I’d be fine.” Delilah opened up the door, the dome light catching her smile. “Thank you for your help and seeing me home.”

Anthony reached across and gripped her hand when she started to get out. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the bag from the back and going inside.”

Anthony scowled. “You’ve got no shoes on, and it’s freezing.”

“It’s not far—”

“I don’t give a shit if it is one foot or ten. Do not get out of this truck.”

He opened the driver’s side door and shut it on her protests. He rounded the back of the vehicle and grabbed the trash bag from the back seat with her dress and shoes. He dropped it unceremoniously into her lap, and when the blanket slipped down slightly, revealing the top of her bare breast, he cleared his throat. “Pull the blanket around you tighter.”

“What are you going to—” He slipped his arm behind her back and under her knees, lifting her from the seat. “Anthony!” she squealed.

He tapped the door with his hip, closing it. “Can you get the keys to your front door out?”

“You don’t need to carry me! I can walk.”

“I already told you I’m not letting you walk on the cold ground in your bare feet,” he said, his voice breathless and a little high, “so stop arguing and get those keys ready to open the door.”

Delilah leaned her head back, studying his face so intently he almost squirmed. “Are you holding your breath because I stink?”

Anthony’s lips twitched, suppressing a laugh. “A little bit.”

Delilah buried her face in his chest, her breath escaping in a groaning laugh. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It could be worse. You could have puked on yourself.” He paused on her front step, inches from the handle. “Open that storm door, would you?”

“This is ridiculous,” Delilah muttered, doing what he asked. Once she had access to the front door, she stuck her key in and unlocked it. “Look at that! You can put me down.”

“Turn the knob.”

She did, and when the door swung in, he dropped her gently inside her home. A series of high-pitched barks erupted behind her and Delilah turned, speaking calmy. “It’s okay, Leia. I’ll let you out in a minute.”

Anthony couldn’t tell where the dog was in the dark house, but it’s bark was yappy. “What kind of dog?”

“A corgi mix.”

“One of those fuzzy things with short legs?” He laughed.

“She is not a thing!”

“If you say so.” Anthony grinned at her outrage and shoved his hands in his pockets. In spite of the sour, subtle smell of the drunk’s vomit, Anthony still wanted to reach for her and pull her in for a tight, warm hug. He’d loved the feel of her in his arms and wanted to experience it again.

Rather than come off like a creeper though, he simply said, “I recommend a hot shower and that you deep soak that dress. The shoes might be a lost cause. They’re impractical anyway.”