A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (36)

Colton pinned him with a glare. “Yes, I really like her.”

“Then you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Noah said. “You don’t blackmail a woman—”

“It’s not blackmail.”

Noah held up his hands. “Whatever you want to call it, it’s a bad way to start. And I don’t know if we can help you.”

“I didn’t say I want your help.”

A round of skeptical snorts greeted his words. Mrs. Porth chose that moment to announce that class would begin in two minutes. Colton made the mistake of meeting her gaze and damn near pissed himself.

“Hey,” Mack said, laying out his mat next to Colton’s.

Colton glowered. “What?”

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

Colton started stretching his triceps. “You hurt my feelings.”

Mack patted his back. “I’m sorry. Hug?”

“No.” Colton kicked the floor again.

“Come on, brother. Give me a hug.”

Colton gave in and let Mack wrap his arms around him. A second after that, Colton embraced him back. They did a couple of back-pounding reassurances before stepping away from each other.

“Okay, good,” Noah said, approaching them again. “Everyone make up over here?”

Colton nodded, strangely emotional. He didn’t like fighting with his friends.

“So when is your next date?” That was Vlad.

“Friday. I’m going to bring her to my house to decorate my Christmas tree.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Mack asked.

“What? No.”

Mack snorted. “Well, then, it’s a shitty idea.”

Noah swatted him. “Hey, come on, Mack. You guys just made up.”

“It’s still a terrible idea,” Mack said.

“I didn’t ask your opinion.” Colton pouted.

“Well, you’re getting it.”

Malcolm cleared his throat to ward off another spat. “So, just so we’re clear here, not only are you basically forcing her to go out with you, you’re also making her do Christmas stuff even though she told you she hates the holiday?”

“I want to change her mind about it.”

Malcolm breathed in a lungful of steadying oxygen and let it out with a sigh. “Colton, I feel like I speak for the group when I say that when she hands you your ass, don’t come running to us. You’re on your own with this one.”

“Gee, thanks.”

A beefy hand landed on his shoulder. “My friend, I love you like a brother,” Vlad said.

Colton patted his hand. “Thanks, man. I love you too—”

“But I am predicting a disaster.”

Colton barely had time to process that nut punch before Malcolm turned his gaze squarely on him. “And remember, Colton. No one hates Christmas. They hate their own Christmases. If you hope to start something with Gretchen, don’t fuck it up by confusing the two.”





CHAPTER NINE


This isn’t a date.

For the past two days, Gretchen had chanted those words in her head enough times to actually come close to believing them. And when her faith in the words began to wane, she buried herself in work or went on a punishing run. But now here she was, trying on a third possible outfit with just ten minutes left until he was supposed to pick her up. Either it was more complicated picking out clothes for a nondate than an actual one, or her brain was officially calling bullshit on her attempt to pretend she wasn’t nervous about seeing him again.

This was ridiculous. And humiliating.

But who was she kidding? Gretchen didn’t dig out her skintight leather leggings that showed off her toned runner’s legs for just anyone. She didn’t accessorize for a business meeting. And she sure as hell didn’t curl her damn hair for a nondate.

Pa-the-tic.

The buzz of the intercom sent her heart into a frantic zigzag. He was here. Shutting her bedroom door—mainly so he wouldn’t see the mess she’d made of discarded outfits—she hurried down the hallway and pressed the button to let him in. Moments later, his footsteps grew louder as he climbed the stairs. She opened the door just as he was raising his hand to knock.

“Where’s the wreath I gave you— Wow.” He stopped and planted his hands on either side of the doorframe. Then he dragged his eyes down her body and back up again. “If you dressed up for me, it worked. I’m yours.”

Warmth spread over her skin as if she’d just sunk into a bubble bath. It quickly scalded like spilled tea. What was she thinking, dressing like this? Now he would know she considered this a date. And since that was worse than admitting it to herself, she covered her embarrassment the only way she knew how. She scowled. “Nothing else was clean. Don’t read anything into it.”

“I already did.” He stepped inside and swung the door shut behind him. “As I was saying before you damn near killed me in those pants . . . Where’s the wreath I gave you?”

She pointed to the coffee table, where it sat atop a pile of books she had vowed to someday put on a shelf but probably never would.

“Want me to hang it for you?”

“No.” She retrieved her coat from the back of the couch. As she reached for the belt to tie around her waist, he gripped her hands.