Page 101 of Mistletoe Mischief

We need to talk.

“Not right now, we don’t,” she muttered. Of all the people in the world who Neil could hook up with, why would he choose her cousin? And furthermore, what was he going to do about the baby?

Ryler saw the new text from Pike below Neil’s and clicked on it. He’d sent it a half an hour ago.

I miss your smell.

Ryler frowned at the message. As far as segues go, it wasn’t the most ingenious opening, so she fired back.

That’s all you’ve got?

The nerve of the guy to act like the biggest dick in Dicktonia and then have the brass to text her some sweet, sentimental bullshit?

Ryler waited several minutes to see if he would text again, and he did. I’m a little drunk and afraid of saying the wrong thing.

As long as you’re honest, it can’t be wrong, right?

The bubbles pulsated across her screen. So, if I say I miss your naked body, that isn’t going to piss you off more?

It should, but what she almost responded with was, Same. It had only been a day, but she was already burning, missing Pike and every feeling he brought out of her with a touch, a kiss, the thrust of his cock inside her.

Damn, when had she become a lust-crazed woman?

Ryler put her phone into her pocket without responding and made her way over to Delilah, coming up alongside her. “You’re Delilah, right?”

Delilah jumped, spilling a little wine onto the tablecloth. “Shit.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Great, she was already making an ass of herself. “I’m Ryler Colby. I’m the personal assistant to Alia Cole.” Ryler held out her hand, and Delilah took it.

“Nice to meet you,” Delilah said, giving her a once-over. “Your outfit is so cute.”

“Thank you. I’m a huge thrifter, so the jeans I snagged for six bucks, and the sweater was five. Still had tags on it.”

“That’s awesome,” Delilah said, giving her a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, most clothes I find thrifting look like something my grandma would wear.”

“Not where I shop. You ever want to take a trip, I’ll show you some hidden gems with fantastic finds.” Ryler pointed to Delilah’s wine. “Can I get a glass of that?”

Delilah poured her a glass and passed it to her. “So, I apologize, but who is Alia Cole?”

“Ah, Instagram travel blogger Alia Cole? She’s the gorgeous blonde over there. She’s my cousin and boss.” The lie still rolled off her tongue with ease, but it seemed shallow now. With Alia facing a world-changing decision with Ryler’s producer slash best friend, what was the point of keeping up the charade? She might as well tell everyone, Oh yeah, it’s my podcast. Alia’s been posing as me for years so I didn’t have to put myself out there.

“Is that weird?” Delilah asked, and Ryler blinked at her, forgetting what they’d been talking about for a second.

“Sorry, is what weird?”

“Working for family,” Delilah clarified.

“Oh, sometimes.” Ryler swallowed a gulp of wine, the lie that she didn’t know exactly who Delilah was hovering over her head. Finally, she swallowed and leaned closer to the other woman, lowering her voice. “Full disclosure?”

“Um, sure.”

“I was in the car with Pike on Sunday. When he saw you with … what’s his name? Anthony?”

“Oh, yeah. That was—”

“None of my business,” Ryler said, trying to put the other woman at ease. “We were on our way to meet Alia when he saw you.”

“I didn’t get out of the car until you were gone,” Delilah said, cocking her head to the side. “How did you know it was me?”