Hottie for the Holidays (Three Steamy Holiday Rom Coms)

Emma jabs a finger at the screen, and squeals, “It’s your Santa! Your Lawrence found your Santa!”

“He’s not my…” I trail off, jaw dropping as the camera cuts to a close-up of Lawrence’s face.

God, he’s even more handsome on the big screen. Or the small screen, as it were. His bone structure was made to be worshiped by a camera, making it hard to concentrate on what he’s saying.

But once I hear “my girlfriend” slip from those perfect lips, my ears hop to work.

“My girlfriend said the incidents started not quite a month ago, the same time Hamish opened his marijuana dispensary,” Lawrence says. “So when I went into the shop today, looking for something to help me sleep, and saw Hamish wearing the same hat I saw on the man last night, I felt compelled to ask a few questions.”

“And he was totally on point, man,” a voice off-screen says, prompting the camera to pan to the left, revealing a scraggly-haired man with kind brown eyes and a familiar saggy Santa hat perched on his head. “It was me. Only I didn’t know it until just now. Or like…a couple of hours ago, when we checked the footage from the security camera outside the shop, and I saw myself running out the door wearing nothing but a stocking on my trouser snake.” He blinks and casts a searching look at someone standing beside the camera. “I can say that, right? I just can’t say the p-word or the d-word?”

“That’s just fine, Mr. Norman,” the reporter’s voice assures him. “Do you have any idea what triggered your psychotic episodes?”

“I don’t know if I was psychotic,” Hamish says, rubbing at the tip of his pink nose. “Just crazy high and in the mood to be naked, I guess. But yeah, it had to be those new jumbo Santa gummy bears. I’ve been treating myself to a couple while I close up every night and not really remembering how I got home after. But I wasn’t too worried since I walk everywhere anyway. I like walking. Or running. Feels so good, you know? Just to get that body moving, man.”

“So other consumers who’ve purchased Santa gummies from the local dispensary should be aware of the high THC dosage,” the reporter prompts, clearly trying to keep the piece on track.

But it’s local news, and we all know the chances of that are slim to none. Our homegrown reporters are great, but far too nice for their own good and inclined to let people ramble.

Hamish nods, his eyes wide. “Oh yeah, bro. They should be super careful. I can handle some serious bud, but this knocked me on my ass. I haven’t lost time like that since I spent a long weekend with Willie at his place in Maui.” His brow furrows. “I can’t remember much of that weekend, either. But I’m sure we had a blast. My mom used to be one of his backup singers. How rad is that?”

He grins before adding in an abruptly serious voice, “But I’m super sorry about the streaking. Miss Farm Lady. If you’re listening, I am so sorry, and I promise I won’t bother you again.” He nods toward Lawrence. “I’d say your name and make that a personal apology, but your guy warned me not to. He doesn’t want your place to get a bad rap for having a naked dude running around.” Hamish nods, pressing a finger against his nose, Santa-style. “He’s looking out for you, mama. He’s a keeper, I think. And that accent.” He blows out a breath through pursed lips, fanning himself. “Super hot. I get it, girl, you know? I. Get. It.”

Lawrence’s face flushes red, and I can’t help but laugh.

And fall a little more in love with him. I think I could grow to like Hamish, too. I’ve seen way more of his fuzzy butt than I would have liked, but he seems like a sweet guy. And he helped me find my way back to Lawrence before I screwed things up again.

“Call me crazy,” Emma says. “But if a guy spent his entire afternoon dealing with Pot Santa and the local news for me, I’d feel pretty flattered. I can barely get Jeremy to keep a Skype date.”

“I do feel flattered,” I say, drifting across the kitchen toward the front hall. “I need to go now, Emma. Rain check on the tea?”

Emma beams as she flips two thumbs-up. “Absolutely. Go get your man, girl.”

“And I hope you get yours on the phone,” I say. “Tell him to pull his head out of his ass and give you some attention.”

Emma laughs, but after a beat, she purses her lips and nods. “Maybe I will.”

I hope she does. Emma’s a new friend, but she’s already proven herself to be a keeper. If her dud boyfriend doesn’t get that after all the years they’ve been dating, then I, for one, think Emma should rethink that whole getting hitched and having-a-baby-right-away plan.