A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (23)

“Because it would make you happy.” Colton sauntered into the small living room, where the only pieces of furniture were a couch, a coffee table, and a small flat-screen TV atop a cheap particleboard table. There was a severity to her apartment, a starkness that struck him as both sad and startling. For a woman who exuded so much energy, she lived in a colorless sea that drained the life out of everything. Her couch was beige. The rug was gray. The cream-colored walls were devoid of any kind of artwork or photos. A circular table to the right of the living room looked like it spent more time as a workspace than a dining space. Stacks of folders and notebooks took up an entire half, and her laptop sat open but asleep on the other half. He wandered closer to the coffee table, which looked close to collapsing under the weight of a stack of nonfiction books about the death of democracy, the rise of global autocracy, and growing income equality in the United States.

She closed the closet door and turned around. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Judging my lack of decorating skills.”

“I’m just checking the place out.”

“You’re trying to psychoanalyze me based on the fact that I don’t waste money on cutesy throw pillows and Santa figurines.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?”

“Just you, darlin’.” He winked for good measure. “Ready to go?”

He opened the front door and waited as she stomped out. He chuckled over her shoulder as she locked the door. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

“So is your cologne.”

He laughed and reached for her hand. She shoved it deep in her pocket. “No way. We’re not holding hands.”

“Why not? This is a date.”

“It’s a hostage situation.”

Another laugh burst from his chest, but at the same time, the words needled him with guilt. He followed a step behind as Gretchen stomped down the stairs and into the entryway of the house. Her footsteps were heavy and loud as she descended the porch steps outside. Colton clicked his key fob to unlock his car, and she followed the chirp to the passenger side. He’d hoped to be a gentleman and open her door for her, but she beat him to it. She yanked the handle with all the attitude of a pissed-off teenager and climbed into the seat with equal exasperation. Colton reached for the door to at least close it for her, but she slammed it shut in his face.

Shaking his head, Colton rounded the car to the driver’s side. He barely had time to get in before she started griping again. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

His thumb hit the start button. “Let’s go have some fun.” As he pulled away from the curb, he flipped on the satellite radio and turned the dial to a Christmas station. She immediately turned it off.

“My car, my rules,” he said, clicking it back on. And just to rub it in, he turned up the volume, filling the car with the distinctive bebop melody of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

Gretchen groaned and banged her head several times against the seat. “I changed my mind. Let me out. This is torture.”

“Come on,” he yelled over the music. “How can anyone not like this song?”

“How many times can I tell you? I hate Christmas!”

He pointed. “And by the end of the night, we’re going to get to the bottom of that.”

Her frustrated argh was music to his ears. Who knew it could be so fun to irritate someone? “Want me to sing along?”

“Want me to throw myself from this car?”

Colton barked out yet another laugh and finally acquiesced. He turned the music down and told her to open the glove box. “There’s a present in there for you.”

She withdrew the wrapped book-shaped package and set it in her lap. “Please tell me you did not give me a romance novel.”

“Even better.”

She tore the paper to reveal a paperback titled A Cold Winter’s Night. The cover featured a couple staring into each other’s eyes as snow fell around them. She gave him a deadpan look. “It is a romance novel.”

“It’s a Christmas romance. The best kind.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to read this.”

“It’s your first lesson.”

“In what?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She pursed her lips. “I’m sufficiently well-versed in that.”

“Don’t I know it?” He winked, and she pretended to be annoyed, but he saw a spark of amusement and—dare he hope—carnal interest in her eyes.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he teased. “It’s your first lesson in the magic of Christmas.”

She turned the book over in her hands and skimmed the back.

“You’re going to love it,” he said. “Promise.”

Gretchen made a disbelieving noise and laid the book on her lap again. “What’s my second lesson going to be?”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Tell me now so I can prepare mentally.”

“It’s time you began to appreciate the joy of Christmas lights.”

Her head whipped in his direction. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”