Noel.
“T ELL ME THIS is not perfect.”
I beamed at the visual of the Fraser fir tree positioned in the corner of the apartment. It was an eight-footer. The beauty was a little on the scrawny side, but it smelled amazing. The scent already filled my apartment and had me humming Christmas songs since Carl and his two nephews arrived with it an hour ago.
“It’s a tree.” Kanton stood next to me, staring impartially at the tree. I peeked at him, getting a quick rush from the fitted T-shirt he was wearing. The way the material clung to his broad shoulders and biceps created a nice visual, and the spicy scent tickling my senses since he showered and changed after setting up the tree for me was an added bonus.
“How can you say it’s just a tree?” I turned my head, staring at his profile, but he turned his seconds later, meeting my stare with a smug grin in place.
“Because it is just a tree.”
“It is not just a tree. This is a Fraser fir, the Range Rover of trees. Autobiography edition.”
“I’ve owned an autobiography, and they’re nice, but if you’ve seen one luxury car, you’ve seen them all.” The smugness of his tone proved he only stated the obvious to annoy me. I returned a glare, which had him grinning and further pressing his point.
“I never understood the excitement of this whole aspect of Christmas. You buy a tree, spend hours digging through an assortment of ornament collections that you’ve spent years packing and unpacking, wrestling with clusters of tangled lights and other stuff, only to turn around and spend more countless hours un doing it. I don’t see the appeal.”
I slipped in front of him, searching his face for a moment. His eyes remained on me, and his expression remained stoic until I asked, “Who hurt you? Because someone has truly destroyed your Christmas cheer for you to think so little of how amazing and satisfying it is to decorate a Christmas tree.”
He threw his head back, and the deep rasp of his voice when he laughed vibrated through me, traveling right down below my waist. “No one hurt me, ”
I quickly shook my head. “No. Someone definitely hurt you. You’ve got some deeply rooted traumas associated with Christmas, buddy, but don’t fret. I plan on giving you the most amazing Christmas experience ever, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll lighten up a little and encompass some Christmas cheer.”
As I spoke, I poked my finger into the wall of muscle that was his chest, not realizing what I was doing until his fingers wrapped around my hand, halting my motion.
“There are no deeply rooted traumas, and I assure you, no one hurt me. Christmas means different things to different people, and for me, it’s more or less an opportunity for my mother to highlight just how perfect her life is. My father and I were just props in her production, so there’s nothing warm and fuzzy about the holidays for me. Don’t waste your time trying to repair me, I’m not broken. I just don’t give a damn about Christmas.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissed the inside of my wrist, and then released me. “I do, however, promise not to ruin your Christmas. Let’s just agree to disagree on the matter to keep the peace.” His eyes bounced over my head to where the tree was, and I exhaled a calming breath. My body was still reeling from that kiss. Something as simple as his lips on my wrist had my insides liquifying and my mind eager to explore what else he could kiss with that mouth of his.
“Agree to disagree, I will not. Sorry, Kanton. You picked the wrong rental for that. You’re going to change your mind about Christmas. That’s my sole mission for the next couple of days.”
“You’re that determined?”
“I am, and since it’s late, and I see that I have to ease you into this gently, we’ll leave the tree decorating for tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans for us.”
The look he gave was one of sheer pain and maybe a touch of intrigue, which had me saying, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to have you writing letters to Santa or making reindeer food . . .”
“There is a God.”
“Maybe not. The reindeer food is more of a Christmas Eve activity. Tonight, we’re watching movies.” I winked and walked toward the kitchen to the sound of him groaning his displeasure.
“And if I disagree?”
“You won’t, so let’s not waste time traveling down that road. You need me to get into Brighton’s Christmas party.”
“That sounds a bit like emotional blackmail.”
“Because it is. Seems to me like the power has shifted, Mr. Joseph, and I’m taking full advantage.”
“You do realize I could still call the authorities to present our very legal and binding contract to have you vacated from the premises until the 27th.”
“You could, but how would you get to Brighton?”
“Lewis.”
“He won’t help you if I ask him not to.”
“Are you sure about that?” He lifted a brow in a challenge, and I shrugged.
“You could take your chances and try.”
“I could—”
“ But you won’t,” I countered, smiling as I yanked open a cabinet and removed two bags of flavored popcorn. “Caramel with white chocolate or toffee with candy cane?”
“Neither,” he murmured.
“Okay then, lady’s choice. Both.”
He groaned again and flopped down on the sofa while I prepared our movie snack and snagged two glasses and a bottle of chocolate peppermint wine.
When I set everything up and settled next to Kanton on the sofa, pulling my legs onto the cushion and crossing them at the ankles, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with him. He glanced at my holiday treats and then at me. “Is all this necessary?”
“ Very necessary. Now, where do you want to start? Small-town romance where the man single-handedly saves the entire town while winning over the one that got away when she offers him a second chance at love or my personal favorite? Corporate asshole comes to town to ruin everyone’s Christmas by bulldozing the lovely novelty holiday town but falls in love with the local favorite after he realizes the error of his ways. Spoiler alert: he chooses the girl over bulldozing the town.”
He shot me a deadpan look, and I grinned. “Again, lady’s choice. Corporate asshole it is, then.”
I scrolled through my saved movies and selected the one I wanted, pressing play and then leaning forward to grab both bowls of popcorn. I placed one in the fold of my legs and the other in his lap, inadvertently brushing my hand over something that had me quickly pulling my hand back while fighting the urge to keep it there. When his eyes remained on the TV instead of flicking over to me, I relaxed, attempting to slow my erratic heart.
Hours later, we were three movies in. After selecting one that was showing live as my second choice, I allowed them to run consecutively, which meant we watched three varying plots, all of which were overly cheesy. Still, the girl got the guy of her dreams, and the guy realized he had been in love with the girl the entire time. I was in holiday overload because, sitting next to Kanton, watching his expression shift from intense to humorous while he ripped apart every cheesy plot and theme, complaining the entire time while smiling through insults, I realized that, ultimately, he enjoyed himself.
His usual demeanor, which screamed tense and uptight, relaxed. He engaged me in friendly banter while devouring popcorn from both my bowl and his. His hands mindlessly made their way to the bowl in my lap, grabbing handfuls while mine did the same to his.
We drank, ate, and engaged in friendly arguments about the realism of the movies, and I understood exactly how each and every one of those women felt. I wanted that cheesy, unadulterated experience with the man whose body heat was flush against my arm and whose voice was a melody in my head. He was comfy and had me forgetting the troubles of the very complicated world that awaited me beyond the doors of my apartment.
At some point during the fourth movie, Kanton dozed, leaving me to my wits. Watching him sleep felt like I was being a creep, and enjoying the movie without him felt like I was breaking some unspoken agreement that we would do this together.
After an internal war, I carefully leaned forward, placing my half-empty bowl on the trunk, and unlocked my legs, feeling a wave of relief from the tension of them being crossed all evening. Slowly, I eased away from the comfort of Kanton’s body to stand.
Once I shut off the TV, I reached for his bowl and placed it on the trunk next to mine, intending to walk away, when I felt his warmth again. His hand latched onto my wrist, and when I lowered my eyes, his were hooded and demanding. They slowly pulled away from my face, lowering to the Christmas hoodie I was in, down to my midthigh spandex shorts.
I would swear to feeling the heat of his gaze as it moved lower and then back up my body, landing on my lips. His pressed into a firm line, and his brows pinched like he was annoyed or at war, and I knew why seconds later when I landed on his lap with a yank of my arm.
His hand was at the base of my neck, and his lips met mine. I sighed into the kiss, leaning deeper into his chest as I adjusted my position so that my knees pressed into the sofa, encasing his thighs while I straddled his lap.
The minute I settled into the kiss, he pulled back, and his eyes were on my lips again. “You taste like peppermint and chocolate.”
“So do you.”
“I’m partial to both but can’t decide which I like more.”
“Neither can I.”
“Then maybe we need a tiebreaker.” His voice was low and sultry.
Those sinful lips of his curled. His mouth was on mine again. The kiss was slow and greedy, just like his hands, which found their way beneath my sweatshirt. The swipe of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers digging into my skin, dancing up and down my spine, and the swell of him beneath me had my core optimistic and pulsing uncontrollably.
When we separated again, his tongue glided across his bottom lip. “I’m going to have to stick with my original answer. Still partial to both.”
My smile was slow when I nodded. “Me too, but . . .”
I couldn’t believe I was doing this; however, I was.
“It’s late. I should probably . . .” I glanced at my room, and his brows pinched again.
“Yeah, you probably should.”
Neither of us moved for a moment, but after an internal struggle about doing what was right, I eased off his lap and lifted our empty glasses, the wine bottle, and stacked the bowls.
“Good night, Kanton.”
“Good night, ”
I placed everything on the counter and then headed to my room. My head was spinning, and my body was on fire, but my heart was at war because I realized I wanted the guy just like those movies. This, however, wasn’t a holiday movie where I was guaranteed a happily ever after, and then I felt the sting of knowing my world didn’t include the man on the other side of my bedroom door.