When he lowered the mug, whipped cream stuck to his stubble like a creamy mustache—and what was even better, he had no idea.
I touched my forefinger to my top lip and cleared my throat. “You’ve got a little, um, whipped cream…”
He quickly swiped at his top lip with his hand and his eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the glob of cream in his palm. “That’s more than a little.”
He tried to wipe it off in his other palm, which only spread it around more. Then, in a last ditch effort, he wiped his hands on his sweater—which only made the bright green fibers stick to his palms.
He grunted in frustration. “Didn’t Nick bring us any napkins?”
I chuckled and dug into my purse. I always kept sanitizer and hand wipes on me at all times. When you work in a store that had kids running around (sometimes amuck), you needed them more than you’d expect. I rooted around until I felt the small square and tossed it onto the table. “Here. This will work better than a dry napkin, anyway.”
He blinked, staring at the hand wipe. He glanced up at me a moment, then back down. “You want me to wipe my hands with this?” That cocky smirk was back, and when I dropped my gaze to the table, my face went red hot as I realized I had handed him a condom from my purse.
“Oh my God,” I lunged for the condom and threw it back in my bag, searching for the hand wipe which I quickly found. “This. I meant to give you this.”
“Phew,” Chris sighed and took the square paper wrapper I handed him. “I was going to say, I don’t think a condom would be much help here.” He lifted his sticky palms into the air.
“Especially not that one. Damn thing’s probably expired.”
Oh, my God. Shut up, Avery. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Chris didn’t need to know that my best friend had given that condom to me last year on St. Patrick’s Day “just in case.” And he definitely didn’t need to know that I went home that night alone with a fistful of chocolate gold coins and a big gulp sized Shamrock Shake.
Chris tore open the hand wipe and cleaned off his hands. “Thanks, this worked great.”
“No problem. I’ve always got a wet one.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck. I had a chronic case of word vomit. I cringed and dropped my forehead to the table. Whatever sexy moment Chris and I had been having had long since passed.
“That didn’t come out as planned,” I muttered, speaking into the table.
Above me, I heard Chris’s chuckle. “Well, thank you for your wet one. It really helped clean the cream off my hands.”
A deep belly laugh bounced my shoulders and took over my body. My humiliation shouldn’t be so damn funny… but it was. And sometimes the best thing you can do is laugh at yourself.
Chapter 7
Chris
I couldn’t quite put my finger on what had caused the shift between Avery and me, but she seemed different. More relaxed. Maybe it was the eggnog and half of the peppermint martini that loosened her up a little. Or maybe it was the fact that we were outside of the store—on neutral territory. But she was open and funny and receptive—and sexy—
Shit. No.
Well, not no. Yes. She was sexy. But she was also technically my employee… or rather, my dad’s employee. Which essentially made her my employee by proxy. She might as well be wrapped in yellow tape. No crossing. Do not pass.
Hands off, Chris.
She laughed, her face a shade of cranberry that rivaled her sweater. Despite her obvious embarrassment by the condom/wet one fiasco, she brushed it off well with a shrug and a giggle.
My eyes swept over her, and even in that loud, jingly sweater, and the insane hair, she was still incredibly beautiful. I never thought I’d meet a person who could make jingle bells sexy. But that was Avery for you.
She looked up at me, blinking from over the rim of her martini glass. “I hope you weren’t hoping for any of this… because no way in hell am I sharing.”
There was a twinkle of humor in her eyes, and magnified by the drink she held in front of them, her red-tinted lips curved into a sly smile.
God, those lips.
“You go ahead,” I said. “Watching you is enjoyment enough for me.”
I saw, rather than heard the hitch in her breath at my words. Saw the way her mouth puckered and formed into an ‘o’ and saw the way her chest expanded with the sharp inhale, drawing my eyes down to the dips and curves of her breasts beneath that sweater.
A loud, shrill noise came from the front of the pizzeria as Mayor Dyker took a microphone and stood in the center of the room. “Hello, Maple Grove! And welcome to our kick-off to Christmas Fest!”
The room of people cheered—adults and kids alike. As the mayor talked, giving his welcoming comments, I spotted Ed Williams, the old guy from the store, sitting alone a few tables away from us.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Avery.
I slid out of my seat and weaved through the crowd, studying Ed closely as he sat alone at his table. He sipped something hot out of a mug—if I had to venture a guess, I’d say it was probably hot chocolate—and his gaze seemed set on something across the room that I couldn’t see.
“Hey Ed,” I said, gently clapping him on the back.
“Hm?” He startled out of his trance and looked over at me with an eye roll. “Oh, it’s you. The city boy.”
“Am I that transparent?”
He flicked a finger at my sweater. “You can don the sweater all you like, but you ain’t fooling me, boy.”
“I could have guessed that.” I slid into the seat beside him and followed his gaze across the room. An older woman with sleek white hair that fell to her shoulders in waves was playing with a little boy who I could only assume was her grandson. Two other younger women sat at the table beside her, too.
Did Ed Williams have a crush? “I have to admit, this doesn’t exactly seem like your scene either, Ed. I got the impression you only are in for these town things if there are cookies involved.”
He held up his mug, tipping it toward my glass and tapping the edge to my beer. “I’m also in it for the hot chocolate.”
I’d hate to know what this guy’s blood sugar looked like. “You’re in it for the chocolate, I’m here for the booze.”
“And for our Avery girl,” he corrected me. I snuck another glance at him, only to find him glaring at me harder. “That’s right. Don’t think I don’t see you over there with your googly eyes on her. Avery’s a good girl. She deserves a good man after what she’s been through.” He poked me in the chest.
What she’s been through? I had questions. So many questions. Was he referencing an ex-boyfriend? She’d said that condom had been sitting in her purse for a long time… but that could mean anything. Long was subjective. I couldn’t help but wonder who had hurt her. “Noted,” I said. “Speaking of googly eyes… who’s that beautiful woman over there?”
He thought a moment, gaze studiously trained onto the woman across the room as he shifted his teeth back and forth across one another, deep in thought. “That’s Mary Lou.”