An Ex for Christmas(51)

But the way he’s watching me? With a little smile and a lot of heat? That’s new.

And I like it. Very much.

“Nah, I’m good for now,” I say, fishing out the remaining olive and popping it in my mouth. I don’t mean for it to be sexy, but the way Mark watches my lips makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the room, and that we’re about to be naked . . .

“Mark?” Erika reappears at his side, setting a hand on his arm to get his attention, and ignoring me altogether. “Penny said they need you in the kitchen. The arugula we got this morning isn’t good, and they want to know what you want to sub in.”

I want to swat her hand away from his arm, which is a little unusual for me. I’ve never really been the possessive, jealous type, but seeing Erika touch my man . . .

Whoa. Where did that thought come from? Mark and I are just . . . what? What are we doing?

Mark drags his gaze away from me and gives Erika a nod of acknowledgment. “Sure, thanks.”

He slips out from behind the bar. Erika stays where she is for a moment, and I feel her studying me, even as I keep my attention on the menu in front of me.

Granted, I have this entire menu memorized. Hell, I’m the one who typed it up for him, because Mark’s a slow-as-heck typer. But I’m afraid if I look at her, she’ll see what I’m thinking, and I’m not really in the mood for a “The Boy Is Mine” scenario.

“Want anything?” Kelly asks.

I glance up. Loaded question, or . . .?

She smiles, and it seems friendly, if maybe a little forced. I smile back. “No thanks, I’m good for now. Actually, I need to use the restroom. Can you make sure no one jacks my spot?”

“Absolutely, no problem.”

Mark returns to the bar just as I hop off my stool and, damn it, my stomach flips in that new-love butterfly kind of way. Forcing the butterflies away, I give him a bright smile and a friendly wave.

That’s what I would normally do. Right?

Crap, this is exactly why I’ve been wary of this, I don’t want to start acting weird, and . . .

I’m still waving.

Mark rolls his eyes, but his atypical grin makes me think he knows exactly what my deal is and is secretly pleased that I’m so flustered.

I bump into Hugh on my way toward the ladies’ room, and he holds my arms to steady me.

“Hey, Byrne, been worried about you! You okay after the other night?”

The other night . . . as in the night before I’d realized I’d wanted my best friend in the biblical way, and before we’d acted on it.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, patting his arm. “Better than good, actually.”

He squints at me. “You do look . . . rosy. Who’s the lucky guy?”

For a second I’m dying to tell him exactly who my guy is, but I bite my tongue. Mark and I haven’t even discussed what we are with each other, much less with other people.

One of the waitresses comes out of the restroom and squeezes by me and Hugh with a playful wink as she points upward.

Hugh and I both glance up. Mistletoe.

Hugh waggles his eyebrows playfully and, placing both hands on my cheeks, gives me a smacking kiss. “Don’t tell your mystery boyfriend,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads back into the restaurant.

Shaking my head, I keep heading toward the restroom, smiling at the thought that just a few days ago the sight of mistletoe had made me think of something else entirely: fortune-tellers and ex-boyfriends. Well, what can I say? I guess maybe the woman was a fraud after all. I tried with my ex-boyfriends, I did, and it just wasn’t meant to be.

But not all of them.

My step falters a little at the forbidden thought—at the realization that perhaps I didn’t try to contact Colin as hard as I could have.

I shove the thought aside.

I’m washing my hands when the bathroom door opens. The bathroom’s small, just big enough for two stalls and a sink. I grab a towel, meaning to scoot out of the way for the newcomer, but I freeze when I see who it is.

“Hey, Erika.”

Mark’s ex doesn’t respond to my smile. Neither does she move out of the way or go into the stall. She’s not here to pee. She’s here to talk.

“What’s going on?”

I throw my paper towel in the trash. “Meaning?”

She crosses her arms. “You and Mark. You’re together now?”

“He told you that?” I ask, genuinely surprised. Mark and I haven’t so much as touched the entire evening, so we’re hardly waving the sex flag.

Now she does smile, but it’s a little sad. “He didn’t have to. You forget that I know him.”

“Actually, I never forget that,” I say, before I can realize that it betrays my jealousy.

There’s a long moment of awkward silence, then Erika shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Look, Kelly, I know it’s been years and this is old news, but I heard about Doug and Mark’s fight the other night, and heard you were there. I realized you probably figured out . . .”

“That you and Doug slept together.”

She closes her eyes for a second. “Yeah. That. Anyway, it made me realize that I owe you an apology. I’ve already said sorry to Mark, a million times, but I belatedly realized I hurt you, too.”