Faith broke into laughter.
Taylor pushed to her feet. “Well, I’ve got to get home. My babysitter’s parents don’t like her out too late.” She leaned in to hug Faith and whispered, “Get yourself a Christmas present, dammit” in her ear.
When she turned to leave without even saying hello or good-bye to Sexy, Faith called after her, “Do you still need me to watch Caleb Saturday?”
“Uh, no, no,” she said in a way that told Faith she was lying so Sexy would believe she was available. “You are free as a bird.” And she blew a kiss before slipping into her jacket and out the front door.
Faith exhaled and faced temptation again. Sexy had that freakin’ adorable lopsided grin on his face. And it was less arrogant now. More…interested?
Pffft.
More interested in getting his goddamned tree from the store, maybe. Guys like this weren’t interested in her. Not for real. She was glad she was tipsy, or that very true realization would have stung. Especially when he stood so close, his spicy, masculine scent turned her blood to lava.
She took another drink from her Jangle punch—no point in letting good alcohol go to waste—and asked, “What city did you slide in from?”
He frowned, then looked down at himself. After a second, he met her gaze again. “There is nothing about me that says city.”
She laughed, gesturing in a circle at him, and said, “All…this. Everything from that Marmot parka to those L.L.Bean boots says city boy coming home for Christmas.”
He leaned back, one brow cocked. “These boots aren’t from L.L.Bean.”
“No?” she asked, smiling at the way he took the slight in stride.
“No. They’re Cabela’s.”
“Ah, well, I stand corrected. I’ve gotta warn you, everyone only thinks the girl working the store is sweet because of all that sugar on the outside. But I know her, and I’d suggest you prepare yourself to go cut yourself a tree.”
“And I have a knack with sweet talk,” he said, turning on some attitude. “Why don’t you point me in her direction, and we’ll just see how it works out.”
She chuckled and lifted her drink to finish it off. Setting it down with a clink on the lacquered wood, she said, “Don’t bother. I’m the girl running the shop, and sweet talk bounces off me like bullets off Kevlar.”
A mix of confusion and humor quirked his mouth again. “Bullets don’t bounce off Kevlar.”
“They do when you’ve had two glasses of Kelly’s Jangle punch.”
That made him laugh, and the low, rich sound of it tingled through her belly.
“But, you’re in luck. I happen to be on my way home, so I’ll get the tree for you.” She slid off the stool, and her legs brushed his. He made no move to pull back, and Faith had just enough liquid courage in her to stand her ground and meet his gaze directly. “But here’s the deal, handsome, and there will be no negotiation. I’ll open up long enough for you to pick up the tree, period. There will be no other transactions. No stand, no ornaments, no tinsel. You’re getting nothing but the tree. Are we clear?”
He tipped his head. “I don’t know, that tinsel, that could be a deal breaker.”
“Smart-ass.” She pointed a finger at his head. “And no Mets hat.”
He rolled his eyes but swiped it off his head, stashed it behind his back, and grinned.
His hair was black, cut short, but growing out of the style and curling at the edges. His teeth were straig
ht and bright. His cheeks were dotted with two shallow dimples.
Damn, he was adorable. Her heart tripped.
“Better?” he asked.
She gave a brisk nod, as if he didn’t make her stomach flutter. “Better.”
Much better.
Much, much better.