Hottie for the Holidays (Three Steamy Holiday Rom Coms)

“God, no.” Coop places his empty plate under mine and reaches for my hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. I’m the one who should be stressed. I’m the one who screwed things up.”

“No, you didn’t. You were perfect. I’ve never seen Stephanie look so constipated. And I’m having a great time.”

His lips twitch, but the expected smile doesn’t appear. “Thanks. I am, too. And that’s the problem. I’m having…too good a time.”

I blink, not daring to indulge the hopeful voice inside me squealing that it was right, and that he likes me, too. I’m not sixteen years old. I shouldn’t be squealing about a boy, not even in the privacy of my own head.

But when he adds in an earnest voice, “I like you, Maggie. I’d like to see you again. Off the clock. If that’s something you might be interested in, I’ll text Penny and tell her not to pay me for tonight.”

“But I want to pay you for tonight,” I say, smiling so hard my cheeks start to hurt.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want your money. I just want…”

“Want what?” I ask, my heart racing.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, setting the inner voice off in a major way. She’s still running around my head, squealing “he likes me, he really likes me!” as I lean in and whisper, “I want to kiss you, too. Is it too forward to ask if you’d want to come back to my place for coffee and kissing?”

He grins, and his summer-sky eyes light up like he won the lottery. “Yes, please. Now, please?”

“And thank you,” I say, giggling as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exit.

A twenty-minute cab ride later, we tumble out onto my street and dash through the lobby to the elevator. Inside, we kiss all the way to the eighth floor, down the hall to my door, and through the darkened living room to the couch where we make out fully clothed, like teenagers, until I finally work up the guts to suggest we might want to slip into something more comfortable—like nothing at all.

“You sure?” he asks. “We can wait.”

“But waiting means waiting,” I mumble, half out of my mind with wanting him. “And waiting is stupid.”

He smiles against my lips as we kiss our way down the hall toward my bedroom. “Waiting is stupid. But you’re worth waiting for, so if you change your mind, it’s fine with me.”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” I promise as we tumble onto the bed. And as one piece of clothing follows the next—falling to the floor as Coop and I find more and more ways to make each other feel oh-so-good—I only grow more certain that I want this.

Want him.

“Best Christmas present ever,” I say as he finally glides inside me, lighting me up like a string of holiday lights—the big, flashy kind my mother never would have allowed in our posh apartment growing up.

“The very best,” he agrees as we begin to move, giving and receiving pleasure with every stroke, every touch, and every kiss. By the time I spin out with a blissed-out cry and Coop comes with a groan moments later, I’m already halfway in love.

And then he whispers, “I’m going to run down to the corner market for some ice cream to eat in bed. You want some?” and I know we’re at the start of something really special.

“Yes, please,” I say, tilting my face up to accept a kiss as he pulls on his tuxedo pants. “Something with cherries in it.”

“Done,” he says. “I’m going to get something with caffeine in it. I’ll need it if I’m going to stay up all night and work all day tomorrow.”

“I can’t stay up all night,” I say, even as I curse myself for being a responsible stick in the mud. “I’ve got to unload two tons of trash from my latest flip tomorrow. The guy was a hoarder, and I’ll be crazy behind if I don’t hit it hard before Christmas.”

Coop cocks his head, shooting me a curious look. “Hoarder, huh? This wouldn’t be a three-story brownstone near here, would it? The one with the hole in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, it is. How did you know?” I ask, frowning as he pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls for a few beats before turning the screen my way, revealing a work order from the company Lou referred me to this afternoon.

“You’re Fresh Starts Inc.?” he asks.

I nod, stunned. “Yeah, that’s my corporation name. But this is crazy. What are the chances that I’d end up hiring you twice in the same day for two totally unrelated things?”

“That just proves it,” he says, bending down to kiss my forehead. “This is destiny, woman. Looks like you’re going to be stuck with me for a while.”