Mistletoe

EVIE

After a long, hot shower spent rinsing any traces of my boss from my skin, I dried and curled my hair and applied a full face of makeup, which usually helped me feel confident and in control.

Today, though, it only made me feel worse. Was that how easy it was for Sam to cleanse away our time together when he was done toying with me?

Why did Sam’s statement hurt me so much? Why did I feel such utter disgust as those words fell from his lips, filling my stomach with lead?

~Unless…~

No, absolutely not. I didn’t have ~actual~ feelings for the man. He was a one-night stand in a bar bathroom, my boss, and a ruse to keep my family off my back. A lot of hats for one man to wear, admittedly. But that was all.

I wished I could talk this through with someone. I’d never really had a lot of friends to talk to; I was a bit of a loner growing up, and my closest relationship was always with Saanvi.

I couldn’t talk to Saanvi about this, though. Not when I’d been lying to her all week.

I desperately wanted to buy myself another pair of Louboutins to build back my confidence, but I knew I couldn’t afford it. Money was tight, and it would only get tighter once I stopped mooching off my parents and started paying rent on my own place.

That reminded me: I really had to call my new landlord to check on the status of the apartment I was supposed to move into. I’d enjoyed staying with my family, but having my own place to relax after a long day would be nice.

But before all that…coffee.

I slunk down to the kitchen to find my mother standing at the counter, making herself a cup as if she’d had the same idea. I grabbed a reindeer mug from the cupboard and joined her at the sputtering Keurig.

The roasting cup of caffeine with warm hints of hazelnut invaded my lungs, and I couldn’t help but breathe deeper.

“Greg called while you were in the shower,” Mom said. Casual. Way too casual.

“He did?” I asked in shock. “Why? What did he want?”

“Well, he was mainly asking about you. How you’ve been doing and what you’ve been up to.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”

“Evangeline Marie…” My mother turned toward me, wide-eyed.

I winced. “Sorry.”

I would rarely swear around Mom. Whenever I did, it was always the same offended reaction. Mom acted like a saint, but I knew her better than that. I was sure she swore like a sailor inside her head; she’d just never dare say it out loud.

She smirked, removing her mug from the spout and stirring in her almond creamer. “But I did tell him…that.”

My forehead pinched in disbelief. “You did?”

“Not in those exact words.”

“Well, what words?” I asked, adding a new K-cup and hitting the start button.

“I may have mentioned that I was falling for your new boyfriend. I told him to have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year in his enormous house all by his lonesome. Then I hung up the phone.”

I grinned, probably too wide. “You did not…”

She smiled and shrugged, pleased with herself.

Yeah, so my mother rubbing my new “boyfriend” in my ex-husband’s wounds like freshly grated salt made me feel slightly better. Even though this relationship was all a charade, it was clearly a good one.

As my mother joined my dad and Tim in the living area, I lifted my phone and dialed my landlord, but it didn’t even get to the third ring before Saanvi started hollering my name from the foyer.

The answering machine picked up. “Hi, you’ve reached Mario, of Mario Rentals in Burlington—”

“Evie!” Saanvi called again.

The machine continued. “Please leave your message at the tone.”

I set my drink on the counter and started heading over to see what she wanted.

~Beep.~

“Hi, Mario, this is Evangeline Beckett calling for an update on the renovations on apartment 4C. If you could just call me back—”

I cut off, standing in the kitchen doorway and staring.

Sam stood in the foyer with a huge bouquet of white Madonna lilies, baby’s breath, and a few pink-streaked Peruvian lilies scattered throughout. All my favorites—as if someone had tipped him off on exactly what to buy.

He could not be that good at picking out flowers. If he was, Lord help me.

I cleared my throat to finish my message. “If you could call me at your earliest convenience, that’d be great. Thanks.”

I hung up, slipping the cell into the pocket of my torn jeans. Saanvi grinned at me, then at Sam, then back at me. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” she said, ducking into the living room to join the others.

Sam had obviously gone home to change; he now wore the tan leather jacket he’d worn the evening we met, draped over a white V-neck T-shirt.

“These”—he held out the bundle of flowers—“are for you.”

As he handed them off, I couldn’t help but take a whiff. I’d missed the smells of all my arrangements back at Evangeline’s. Sweet aromas could make all the difference for me, even on the sourest of days.

The subtle scent used to remind me of all the things I thought I’d accomplished. My business, a husband, that stupid white picket fence…but that image was fake.

Granted, Sam and I were fake too. But at least we were both clear on that. At least he was currently doing something to make me smile.

This didn’t seem like the kind of gesture you made just for your “plaything.” And in my heart of hearts, I knew he’d never meant that the way it sounded this morning. So, maybe I’d been too hard on him.

Sam rubbed his neck. “They’re not Evangeline’s, but—”

“They’re beautiful.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

“I had some help,” he said, bashfully tucking his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

I smirked. “You don’t say…”

“Listen”—he spoke close and quietly to evade all the prying ears in the next room—“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“No, Vázquez. It’s fi—”

“It’s not fine,” he interrupted. “I don’t ever wanna make you feel like you’re something I’m just using for fun. I know I crack jokes and push buttons. What can I say? You bring out the asshole in me. But I promise I can figure out where the lines are.”

My chuckle must have been contagious, because he beamed.

“I like seeing you laugh,” he muttered.

“I like you making me laugh,” I countered.

Saanvi cleared her throat as she reemerged from the living room, pointing out the mistletoe over our heads like the bitch she was. Tim and my parents wandered in behind her, gawking at us as if they were actually expecting us to heed the absurd tradition.

“Nope,” I said, crossing my arms. No way was I going to kiss Sam in front of everybody. Not after all the boundary-blurring we’d already done last night. And not for the sake of some stupid phony plant.

“Oh, come on,” my mother groaned.

“Yeah, come on,” Tim said. “Don’t be a wuss.”

Sam awkwardly leaned forward, placing a peck on my forehead. “There. Happy?”

“Oh, hell no,” Saanvi huffed. “If you don’t kiss my sister like a real man, I’ll call her ex-husband. Judging by what I heard over the phone this morning, he’ll be ~happy~ to come here and do it for you.”

“She’s probably not wrong,” my dad mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “You guys, this is freaking ridicu—”

Sam seized my face, pressing his lips to mine. Though shocked, I kissed back like a reflex as my stomach took a nosedive. I could feel a humid ache forming between my thighs.

The last time I felt this overwhelming sense of happiness, anxiety, and fear all wrapped up in a little red ribbon was when I met Greg at the hospital a few years ago after getting checked out from a fender-bender.

He and I had been letting the magic fade for a while, but something about the words “car accident” really jolted us both. In that moment, I was so relieved he was okay, so in love with him…

And why was I thinking about my ex-husband right now, anyway?

As Sam released his hold on me, my eyes fluttered open. We glanced at our hecklers, only to find that they’d snuck back into the living room, leaving us be. I sucked in a breath, biting my bottom lip while shooting Sam a half-smile.

“Well…” I huffed. “I guess I should get ready for that dinner with your parents.”

He grinned, not even attempting to hide his blush, even though all I wanted to do was cover my own face.

All I could think about was how I now had an explanation for why Sam’s comment earlier had hurt me so bad. I had feelings for him. Real feelings, more than just lust. God, that was going to make everything so much more complicated.