A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (62)

Colton crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Wait . . . they woke up one morning to find both you and the car gone, and they only reported the car?”

“It would’ve been too much of a scandal to report me missing.”

“Jesus, Gretchen.”

“It made sense, actually. People are more likely to remember seeing a red Corvette than some random girl.”

“Is that how they justify it, or how you do?”

She toyed with her sandwich. “Anyway . . . my point was, I used to act out a lot and did some stuff that they resented me for, and that only got worse when I dared to not go into the family business.”

Colton abandoned his sandwich and slid over to stand in front of her where she leaned against the counter. He planted his hands on either side of her on the counter, barricading her within his shirtless embrace. “None of what you just told me justifies even a tiny bit the way they treat you.”

“I know. Years of therapy made me realize I acted out because they treated me like shit. I’m used to it at this point.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

His kind scrutiny made her squirm. She looked at the floor. “I don’t think my family has ever had anyone shove their bullshit back in their faces like you did tonight. Especially not for me.”

Colton placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “I’m available to do so whenever you need me.”

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities if you take this endorsement.”

“You don’t think I ruined my chance of that tonight?”

“I doubt it. They look at you and see dollar signs. They’ll put up with anything if it makes them richer.”

“Good. Because I officially want it now.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her swiftly and backed up. “Just to piss them off.”

Somehow, she managed to laugh, but it died quickly. Colton wasn’t vindictive. He lived to make people happy. But a few dates with her, and he was already absorbing her family’s toxicity. The best thing she could do for him would be to rip off the tentacles before they injected their poison any further.

But when he looked at her as he was now—with desire and kindness—it was hard to remember why this was a bad idea.

“You’re killing me in that shirt, you know,” he said, dragging his eyes up and down her body. She’d thrown on his discarded T-shirt before coming downstairs. He wore just a pair of basketball shorts.

“Maybe you should take it off me,” she suggested.

“What about your sandwich?” He was already reaching for her, though.

“I’ll eat later.”

“Does that mean I get to eat you now?” Colton slipped the shirt from her shoulders, hoisted her naked body in his arms, and deposited her on the counter.

“You know what I’d love to do with you this weekend?”

“Stay in bed and have sex all day?”

“That too. I was thinking we should go to Vlad and Elena’s party.”

“You . . . you want me to go to that party with you?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Her heart did a triple axel. Going to a party together with their friends was couples shit. It was like announcing to the world that this thing between them wasn’t about business and never had been. Like announcing to herself that every time she chanted This isn’t a date in her head, she was lying to herself.

Worse, it would be like walking straight up to Liv and saying the words she most loved to hear: You were right. We’re good together.

It’s not that she didn’t know it before.

She did. And that’s what scared her.

He lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing grin. “You know you want to say yes. Just say it.”

She said yes.

She never got back to the sandwich.





A Cold Winter’s Night





The house was quiet when Chelsea awoke.

Not the normal kind of quiet, but the kind where she knew instinctively that Simon wasn’t in the house. At some point over the past three days, she’d become accustomed to his presence in big and little ways—the sound his feet made on the stairs, the way he breathed when he was lost in a book, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t aware.

The roads were supposed to reopen sometime today. There was no reason to stay.

The thought brought a dull thud to her chest.

She stared at the ceiling and tried to convince herself it was for the best that this thing was ending. But she couldn’t think of all the reasons that would have come so easily a few days ago.

Finally, she rose and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. Thank God the water still worked. But just before stripping out of her clothes, she heard something out back. She stood on tiptoe to peer out the high bathroom window . . . and gasped.

Simon stood at the edge of the property wrapping lights around a small pine tree. He was decorating a tree.

Chelsea grabbed her coat and threw on the old winter boots she’d found in her aunt’s bedroom closet. By the time she got outside, he was nearly done. At the sound of the back door, he paused and turned to look at her.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s Christmas Eve. I figured we should have a tree.”