Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Yep.”
“You don’t look … well, as ecstatically happy as you usually do at this time of year.”
“I’m fine,” I say, grabbing a coffee pod.
“And a coffee at this time of the evening?”
“What’s with the psychoanalysis?” I say, shoving the pod into the machine without much Christmas cheer. I slam the drawer shut, happy for the loud whirring sound to block out any other questions Dan might have.
I’m not safe for long. He looks at me in that searching, concerned way. One downside of being so close with my big brother is that he genuinely cares and wants to spend time with me. That never felt like a negative before I started fantasizing about his best friend.
As he keeps looking—and I continue stubbornly refusing to speak—I wonder if my Grinch, my Secret Santa, might’ve been the person to save me from this inappropriate attraction to Asher. I could’ve broken the rules, found out who he was, and went on a date.
Sure, I would’ve been thinking of Asher and comparing him at first. Maybe, if I kept trying, I could’ve gotten over that and found a place of genuine affection and desire. I could have a normal relationship, not one that ends with me breaking my big brother’s heart.
“Are you going to drink your coffee or stare into space?” Dan says.
“It’s still hot.”
“We’ve been sitting here in frankly awkward—some might say torturous—silence for five minutes.”
Is that true? Jeez. From the temperature of the java, he seems to be correct.
“I want to get some late work done.”
I won’t get much sleep tonight, anyway. I put myself out there with my Secret Santa, sharing personal stuff. It felt like oversharing. I was on an emotional limb, and his non-reply was like he cut that limb off.
Overdramatic? Sue me.
“Seriously, sis, you know we can talk about anything you want.”
Nope, we can’t. It’s not like I can casually start outlining how I’ve been fantasizing about his bestie.
Maybe I can share the Secret Santa stuff, but that would mean admitting my idea has one flaw we should’ve seen coming. People are going to make their texts personal. He made an HR comment during the announcement. It’s true. It’s a nightmare waiting to happen.
Or maybe everybody else has more self-control than me.
“Another night owl,” Dan says, grinning when Asher walks in.
Asher smiles at my brother, then walks to the fridge. Is he purposefully not looking at me? Maybe he’s annoyed that I touched him. It wasn’t a big deal. I just put my hand on his chest. It was instinct, a reaction.
“Busy evening?” Dan asks as Asher makes himself a sandwich.
“I was on the phone with Mom. She wants me to swing by her place tomorrow to help decorate her tree. Wants to make up for old times, I guess.”
“That’s great, Asher.”
“Is it?” Asher mutters, with his back turned.
Dan attempts to be positive for his friend. “I know you had your ups and downs. That’s probably putting it mildly, but it’s never too late to reconnect. You said she’s been doing much better.”
“It was easier to be proud before I had to see her. It brings up a bunch of crap. Then it makes me feel like a whiny little kid for even caring. I’m a grown-ass man, and the idea of decorating a tree …”
He stops, turns, and takes a big bite of his sandwich. I think he’s embarrassed for oversharing. Join the club.
Again, no look at me, not even a glance. It’s like he’d rather do anything but lay eyes on me. That’s where my inappropriate touching has gotten us.
“I think it’ll be good for you both,” Dan says. “If you need backup, you could always ask the tree-decorator extraordinaire to help.” Dan winks innocently at me. “Holly will take any chance to decorate a tree she can get, and she’s good at talking people’s heads off when things get awkward.”
I try not to show how panicked this makes me. Dan doesn’t know what he’s doing. From his perspective, he’s making a kind offer to a friend. He knows I try to be helpful wherever I can.
If this were anybody except Asher, I’d leap at the opportunity to do a good deed, especially this time of year.
“I’m sure Asher doesn’t want me third-wheeling with his mom,” I blurt out.
“She doesn’t want to help, Dan,” Asher says.
I glare at him, looking dashing in his tight-fitting shirt. He’s so stubbornly tempting. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s fine. I can handle it on my own,” he mutters.
He doesn’t look sure about that.
“I love decorating trees. I-I just don’t want to impose,” I stutter.
“I’m debating canceling, anyway.”
“What? Why?” I say abruptly.
Asher sighs. “We don’t have to get into his.”
“We don’t have to not get into it, either,” Dan says. “You’re in safe hands here.”
That isn’t exactly true. There’s nothing safe about Asher and me spending one more minute together than is strictly necessary. Safe hands? Nope, not mine. I want to put my hands on him in ways that would put me on the naughty list.