Page 90 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
She takes another sip and nods. “I’m not offering you the compliment because you don’t deserve it, but yes, this is very good.”
“Glad I could start our date off with a bang.”
Her expression falls flat. “Fake date.”
“Kind of salty for someone who should be feeling the Christmas spirit. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, you’re rather lively for someone who should be acting like the Grinch overlooking Whoville…don’t you think?”
“Maybe your presence has made my heart grow two sizes too big?” I say with a smirk.
“Or maybe it’s your ego that’s motivating you to act like a charming asshole.”
“Hmm, we might never know,” I say as I head toward the door of the bar. When I glance over my shoulder, I ask, “You coming?”
She huffs and then joins me. Before walking through the door, I turn to her and whisper, “Don’t look too excited—we don’t want people to think you’re actually having fun with me.”
“I’m not,” she deadpans.
“That’s because we haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”
Storee
A few things…
Cole Black is handsome.
Let’s just get that out in the open, okay? He’s a handsome man, there’s no debating it, there’s no denying it. If you put his face into some sort of facial recognition device that tells you whether he’s an attractive human or not, he’d get an exceedingly high score.
Secondly, he smells nice. It of course pains me to say such nice things about him, but it’s true. A stranger would sniff him and be pleased with the scent. That’s just how he presented himself tonight—unfortunately for me.
Thirdly, he’s a cocky asshole. Now, this I was not expecting. He walks around town like the nice guy that everyone loves and can’t get enough of because he’s the hometown boy that never left and is instead hanging lights for old ladies. But this side of Cole, the competitive side, will do anything, and I mean anything—including tossing his arm over my shoulders and walking down the streets with me secured to this side—to win.
And he seems to not even think twice about it either.
He’s comfortable.
In his element.
While I’m over here fumbling, trying to maintain a smile as we pass people in town, offering them aMerry Christmasand simultaneously sipping cider.
It’s a lot for a girl who came to Kringle to help take care of her great-aunt.
I didn’t sign up for this, and yet here I am, in the throes of fake passion with a man I can barely stand, in a town that likes to watch every little move you make.
“Merry Christmas,” Cole says to a couple sitting on a bench.
“Merry Christmas,” they call back.
“Season’s greetings,” I say with a nod.
“That sounded stiff to me,” he says as we make our way to Ornament Park.
“When you say, ‘Merry Christmas,’ it sounds like you have marbles in your mouth when you try to get out the words,” I reply.
“Really? And here I thought I was getting better at it.” He shifts, but keeps his arm firmly attached to my shoulders.
“You know, you don’t have to continue to hold me close to you. I’m not running away.”
