Tangled in Tinsel (Holidates #1)(6)

Why does everything these guys say feel like a double entendre? It’s because I’ve worked myself into a horny mess, that’s why. Still, the others smirk. And it feels illicit—so very fucking illicit. Or that’s how I’ll remember it tonight when I’m alone in bed.

I stand quietly while they settle around me, enjoying the view as Reed hops up on the counter, reaching for the cheap bottle of whiskey. But instead of waiting for another pleasurable zinger, I turn to grab for the apron hanging from Jace’s fingers.

But Alec shakes his head, giving me a twirling motion as he approaches. My teeth find my bottom lip again, butterflies erupting as I spin around. His arms encase me, hooking the apron over my head before pulling it snug around my waist as he ties it. Tight. My body gives a little jerk at the end before I feel him close in—his lips near my ear.

“All done. Now be good and get to work.”

For fuck’s sake. Well, I guess we’re all going to get food poisoning.

Because there’s no way I’ll be able to focus enough to make it through dinner without salmonella and E. coli gang-banging this party.





Two hours later, the laughter around the dining table proves nobody died eating the spaghetti I made. Or maybe it just proves that enough alcohol can kill all bacteria. Because the guys have had their fill of whiskey and scotch. But despite my worries, dinner’s been amazing. Electric, even.

“Okay, so tell me, how did you all meet? Did you grow up together? Was this always a bromance for the ages?”

Jace leans back in his chair. “Alec and I played for the Pats and Niners together a hundred years ago. I was the last to join the group. All these assholes knew each other before.”

I look at Alec. “You were a quarterback, right?”

He nods, but Jace huffs, “Quit fangirling. I made him look good with all my touchdowns. So don’t get too dreamy over there, cutie.”

Jace’s faint Boston accent gets stronger when he’s been drinking. I’ve been melting all night, even if I’m laughing currently.

They begin to spar verbally about who the real MVP is, making me smile harder. That is until my teeth find my lip because I’m suddenly picturing them in those tight white pants, helmets in hand, shirtless. I bet their skin always tastes like the perfect kind of saltiness.

My warming cheek meets my shrugged shoulder, brushing over it just as Reed cuts in.

“Remind me how you two manage our company? What’s with all this ego?”

The table erupts with “Come on” and “Pot, kettle” as napkins fly in Reed’s direction. He shifts his body to face me, acting like he’s protecting me from the onslaught, bringing our faces closer together.

His breath is minty. Probably from the gum he’s slowly chewing while staring at me. However, I can’t bring myself to look into his eyes because it feels too intimate…too exposed. So instead, I stare at his mouth.

And those lips, attached to that mouth, blow me a small kiss before he rights himself, addressing the table.

“Settle down, animals. There’s a lady here.”

I roll my eyes, pretending not to replay what just happened in my head. But Reed turns his head toward mine, his eyes darting to my cheeks and then back.

“You realize that if I weren’t here, nobody would know what fork to eat with.” He winks. “You can thank me later for the things I’ve taught them.”

There’s a beat of silence before Alec chuckles.

“Don’t listen to him, Samantha. He’s just an Upper East Side snob. A rich prep school charmer who likes to remind us he’s slumming it as our COO. See, Cole and I came from a different kind of neighborhood. Nobody cared what fork you ate with—but they might stab you with one.”

Reed laughs a deep bass that makes me want to hear it again. I look around the table at the guys. You’d never know that any of them were ever unpolished. And somehow, the idea of a gentleman mixed with a little thug makes my mouth water just as much as a rich, arrogant prick.

I shift in my seat, facing Reed as he links his hands behind his head, kicking his legs out under the table. The muscles in his biceps are deliciously on display, even in the navy sweater he’s wearing, making me feel cheeky.

“So you went to a prep school? Like the one in Gossip Girl?”

Jace grins, picking up on my teasing tone as I add, “Did an anonymous person talk about all the dalliances of your day? Was there a scandal? Did you know any girls named Blair or Serena? Were you the real Chuck Bass, running around saying things like, ‘I’m Reed Forthman.’”

Reed’s hand shoots out, tickling my side, making me squeal.

“You little smartass. Do you think I didn’t watch that show? Chuck Bass is a pussy. For your information, I went to Hillcrest Prep. The number one school in the country.” He leans in closer, and I laugh less because his hand slows, kneading. “Yes, people talked about me as they should. Yes, there was a scandal. Because I caused it. And yes, I knew many girls. I’m sure at least two were named Blair and Serena.” His eyes are locked on mine as he tilts his head. “But I never did meet a Samantha.”

A coy smile blooms slowly on my face.

“Well, then, I’m happy to be your first.”

His eyes say fucking tease as he looks at me. And he’s right because that’s precisely what I’m doing against my better judgment.