A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (38)

“I think I’m supposed to see myself in Chelsea, and I resent that.”

“Interesting.”

“Like that wasn’t your intention.”

He shrugged but kept his eyes on the road.

“Come on, seriously? You just happen to give me a book about a woman who hates Christmas, avoids her family, and has a career she deeply cares about?”

“That could describe any number of women, especially those who are characters in Christmas romance novels.”

“Well, I’m not her.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

It was a trap. If she admitted that the book had kept her awake long past her bedtime twice this week, she’d never hear the end of it. On the other hand, she was actually curious about a few things. “Fine,” she huffed, mostly to herself. Then she twisted in her seat to look at him. “Why does this Simon guy care so much about what she does with her own house?”

“You’ll find out. Just keep reading.”

“But he’s kind of pissing me off right now. If I don’t find out soon why he’s so obsessed with this, I’m going to have a hard time understanding why she’d fall for him.”

“Because it’s a sunshiny one–grumpy one trope.”

“A what now?”

He turned again onto Shelby Avenue. “It’s a classic romance trope. One character is all happiness and joy, and the other is stern and grumpy, and the only person who can ever make the grumpy one smile is the sunshine one, and the only person who can make the sunshine one look deep within himself is the grumpy one.”

That sounded way too close to what Liv had said about her and Colton being a perfect match. Gretchen narrowed her eyes. “Is this a conspiracy?”

He barked out a laugh and glanced at her. “A conspiracy?”

“Yeah. You and Liv and Alexis . . . you’re all in on this, aren’t you?”

“In on what? Making you read a romance novel?”

“That and trying to get me to love Christmas and—”

“You’re cute when you’re paranoid.”

This time she for sure growled. “Stop being the sunshiny one.”

His quiet chuckle sent an infuriating tickle through her belly. “How far is it to your house?” she griped.

“I live south of Brentwood, so about twenty minutes.”

“Do you live near Vlad and Elena?”

“Sort of. They’re in a subdivision near me, but, uh, my house is a little more tucked away.”

Gretchen had been around rich people her entire life and knew when they were purposely trying to two-step around the appearance of lavishness. Her parents were masters of the dance and liked to refer to their estate with its sixteen bedrooms, full-size ballroom, and indoor pool as “the shack.” Because the uber rich cosplaying at poverty was just so hilarious.

And just as she suspected, “tucked away” was a quaint way to describe the location of Colton’s house. The zip code might have said Brentwood, but he lived in a lush, secluded area where mansions were shrouded from public view by acres of trees. After punching in the code to a wrought iron security gate, he drove up a private road lined with historic streetlamps and mature deciduous trees that were probably breathtaking in fall but were now stripped of their leaves for the winter.

A quarter mile later, the house came into view. Made of gray stone with a peaked white roof, it rose high above the grounds on a soft, rolling bluff and was divided into two wings with a wide covered porch in the center. A grand stone staircase descended to the circular driveway in the front.

He’d already been busy putting up decorations. A wreath the size of a kiddie pool was affixed to the peaked gable above the porch. Garland adorned with red bows and white lights ran the length of the stone balustrade along the porch and down the long staircase. And in the middle of the circular drive was a two-story pine tree encircled with more lights.

Colton was uncharacteristically quiet as he turned off the car. “It’s probably a bit much for your standards.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, hoping her sincerity came through.

“It’s a lot more than I ever had growing up, that’s for sure.” He sucked in a quick breath and let it out with a laugh that sounded fake. “Anyway . . . ready to decorate?”

“If I say no, will you take me home?”

The injection of sarcasm brought back his swagger. “Nope. Nice try, though.”

He met her on the passenger side and reached for her hand. They climbed the stairs to the porch together, and as he punched in another security code to unlock the front door, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you allergic to cats?”

“Um, no. Why?”

Colton stepped aside to let her go in first. Gretchen didn’t have time to pay attention to the interior of the house because all her focus was on the apparent answer to her question sitting in the middle of the foyer. It had the body of a cat but was big enough to consume a corgi.

“Colton, I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s a mountain lion in here.”

Colton laughed and swung the door shut behind her. “That’s Pickle.”

“Yeah, well, Pickle has a human face and is about to call her lawyer.”

Colton bent to scoop the fluffy beast into his arms. Pickle meowed and rubbed her face against Colton’s chin. “She loves me.”