“The fiancée trumps the best friend, huh?”
“You bet.”
Joel’s been crazy about Natalie ever since he met her. Sometimes he even forgets about me.
“Actually, she may be the new best friend,” I tell Ryker.
He frowns. “Then I guess I have to find myself a new one, too.”
I almost tell him I can be his new best friend but I stop myself in time. I don’t want to make him any offers. Not yet.
“So, you’re staying at Natalie’s place?” Ryker asks.
“No. I have my own apartment.”
That he’s welcome to visit anytime.
“But you’re spending Christmas with your brother and Natalie, right?”
“Yeah.”
Unless he asks me to spend it with him, which I’d love to. He doesn’t.
“What about you?” I decide to ask him a question this time. “What are your plans for Christmas?”
“Oh, I still have work to do next week,” Ryker answers.
I pout. “Scrooge.”
“Shouldn’t you be busy cooking for Christmas parties?” he asks. “You’re a chef, aren’t you?”
I place a finger on my chin. “Let me guess. My brother has been keeping you updated about my life.”
“And I’ve seen the dishes you make on Instagram.”
Ryker follows my Instagram? I mean, I know he’s one of my followers, but to think that he’s actually been looking at my photos even though he’s never liked any of them?
I find myself blushing. “Thanks.”
Thanks?
“I mean yes, I am a chef, and I’m cooking Christmas dinner for Joel and Nat. No one else.”
“I see. So you’re taking a break?”
I shrug. “A little bit.”
“Are you cooking for Joel and Natalie’s wedding?”
“Nope. I want to enjoy that day. I want to wear a pretty dress, be in the ballroom and dance, not wear an apron and be covered with sauces in the kitchen.”
Not to mention I want to be able to keep my eyes on Ryker throughout the whole thing. Maybe even dance with him?
Ryker grins. “Perfectly understandable.”
Does that mean he’ll dance with me? Shit. I sound like a teenager before prom.
“Although I think you’d still look good in an apron,” Ryker adds.
My breath catches. My eyes grow wide.
Ryker thinks I’d look good in an apron? He gave me a compliment?
It’s not like he’s never given me compliments before. He used to tell me that I had nice hair, that my dress was nice, that I did well on a test, that I was a natural at soccer. But this is different. It hits different.
I don’t know how to respond. I know I have to, though, before everything gets too awkward.
Shit.
Just as I open my mouth to say something, a man in a green and gold Santa elf suit approaches us. A member of the hotel staff judging by the ID hanging around his neck right behind his old-fashioned camera.
“Would you like me to take your picture?” he asks.
I throw him a puzzled look. “You want to take a picture of us?”
“If you want,” he answers with a jolly grin. “And don’t worry. It’s free. It’s part of the hotel’s efforts to instill holiday spirit. I take your picture under the mistletoe—it’s up to you whether you want to kiss or not—”
Kiss?
“—and then I print it out with this cool device and give it to you. That’s right. You get the only copy, which you can keep for years or do whatever you want with.”
He thinks we’re a couple?
“Cool,” Ryker says.
He thinks it’s cool?
He turns to face me. “You know what? I don’t think we’ve ever had a picture taken with just the two of us.”
True. Joel’s always in the picture. But he’s not here now. This is our chance.
I face Ryker. He says nothing. He just looks into my eyes. I feel like I’m getting sucked into his.
Every breath, every thought, every inch of me is getting sucked into those warm brown eyes, the shade of which reminds me of my signature gravy that I use to coat my roast chicken or ribs.
Shit. I’m suddenly craving for that gravy. And for Ryker.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been craving him for a long time.
“Okay,” the photographer says, though his voice sounds like it’s coming from beyond a wall instead of from just a few feet away. “I’m going to take your picture now. One. Two…”
I lean forward, grip his arms and kiss him.
Blame it on the mistletoe. Blame it on those two whiskey sours. Blame it on the gravy. Or not.
After all, the bottom line is I’m kissing Ryker because I want to.
When he responds, I feel like a child on Christmas morning. My heart leaps. My feet feel like they might float off the floor any second.
He puts his hand on my waist and pulls me closer. His fingers entangle with my hair as his lips collide with mine over and over. Fire burns in my chest. My head spins.
I’m kissing Ryker. He’s kissing me. And it’s better than I ever imagined.