“That sounds fun. Wow, Uncle Kurt. I can see it.” Eliza laughs, shaking her head and envisioning what we all are; Kurt being tackled by a dozen kids in the snow.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask Eliza because she’s always the one trying to get everyone to open up.

  “I’m going to Germany with my mom and dad. I’m an only child, and we’ve always talked about going to the Christmas markets there. So we decided to do it this year.”

  “Damn, high roller.” Harry, another one of the sound engineers, makes a passing comment as he walks into one of the studios.

  “Why does everyone say that when someone takes a nice trip?” Lark asks to his retreating back, and he doesn’t come back to argue with her.

  “Well, it does cost a lot of money to go on a European vacation.” Sydney’s shrug is too innocent.

  “Yes, but Eliza works hard. I’m sure her parents do, too. When people say something like that, it’s as if they’re implying that people are reckless with money. When, in reality, they’re taking a nice trip that they deserve from working hard.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Kurt agrees with her.

  “No one said Eliza is reckless. But I do see your point.”

  Harry’s comment, and people who make similar ones, are annoying at times.

  “What are you doing, Collin?” Eliza cuts in once again to keep Lark from derailing the conversation.

  I polish off the last of my donut, ever intrigued by my prickly coworker, and smile. “I’ll be here in good old Rockton. Spending time with the family. Probably play some video games. Maybe head to the ski resort to snowboard a little.”

  “I’m going to have my first Rockton Christmas, too.” Sydney smiles at me, batting her eyes in a flirty way.

  “If you need any recommendations, let me know,” I offer out of kindness.

  Sydney might be polarizing in the podcast community, but she seems harmless to me. And she’s new in the office. So, as the welcome committee of the company, by default, because I’m the only one ever here on a semi-normal basis, I feel the need to help her feel included and comfortable.

  Except, when I turn to Lark, whose head is now buried in her laptop, there is something rigid about the set of her shoulders. I know, without a doubt, she thinks I’m hitting on the new girl. And that has her annoyed.

  Interesting.

  It also doesn’t escape my notice that she doesn’t offer anything about her Christmas plans. Obviously, she’s told me how she feels about the holiday. But that’s not weird, plenty of people begrudgingly get through it and somewhat enjoy being with their families. At least they enjoy the presents.

  But it strikes me that perhaps Lark isn’t sharing because she doesn’t have any plans. And maybe she doesn’t even celebrate the day.

  Which makes me wonder, for not the first time, what is it that caused her to hate Christmas so much?

  And why does anticipating the reason make my heart hurt for her?

  11

  LARK

  Why did I let Renée drag me to this?

  Strobe lights paralyze the room for a moment before red and green lasers fill the air, and a remixed, sexy version of a Christmas song plays.

  “Nothing like a little foreplay for the holidays,” I crack, finishing off my glass of white wine.

  “Hey, if there is something that could save the holiday you hate so much, it might just be a little foreplay.” My best friend grins.

  “I think I see that football player you made out with in that deserted classroom. Remember that? The night we walked back from that frat and my heels kept getting stuck in the pavement?” I giggle because, damn, that was a hilarious night.

  “Oh shit, his tongue tasted like cigarettes. Don’t let him see me. But yeah, breaking into Grands Hall at midnight was pretty epic.”

  Tonight is an unofficial alumni event for our graduating class, not that anyone at the college actually put this together. Just some of the more known kids on campus when we attended who came back to the area to see their families for the holidays and decided to gather some people at a local bar.

  Though Linney’s is more of a club than a bar, with its giant dance floor and two bars. This place is a luxury in a town full of dive bars with underage college kids. They even serve decent wine rather than over-sugared fishbowls, where you can catch something while sharing with others.

  I spend the majority of the rest of the week working from home. Not only did I want to strategize about putting out the best holiday episodes I could, but I didn’t want to be in Collin’s vicinity. He pissed me off after that staff meeting. Sometimes, I think he enjoys riling me up and getting under my skin.

  Not only do I not want to see his smug face, but I don’t need to hear about everyone’s Christmas plans. Or see the explosion of decor Eliza keeps adding. Or hear the holiday radio station she pipes in on our overhead speakers.

  Staying locked in my cozy apartment while the cold weather chaps and freezes everyone outside feels like the best option. I read two new romance books, recorded my next episode featuring a sex therapist who discussed doing the nasty in your parent’s house while visiting during the holidays, rode my stationary bike, and made homemade chicken and wild rice soup.

  All in all, it’s been a dream of a week.

  Until Renée dragged me here, and I’m faced with every sorority girl and ex-hookup I hadn’t wanted to fraternize with since college.

  The dance floor starts shifting with people shaking their hips. We’re unfortunately caught on the edge of it, and someone nudges Renée, so she goes bumping into me.

  “Good thing I drank all of my wine,” I grit out, righting her.

  “Will you stop being a big old grump? You could get lucky tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “With who? Jimmy Banion, the guy who couldn’t figure out where my clit was sophomore year? Because he’s at the bar. Should I introduce you two?”

  Renée rolls her eyes. “No, but—”

  “Great news from behind the bar! For the next thirty minutes, our own Collin Machlan is covering the tab. So go grab a drink, or seven, give that girl you’ve got your eye on the shot you’ve wanted to take with her, and let’s get fucking merry!”

  The DJ clicks off the mic, and the music floods back in full-force while the room erupts into applause. Heads turn in the direction of a bank of pool tables near the back exit, and Collin waves to the people now cheering and clapping in his honor.

  “When did he get here?” I grumble.

  “Haven’t seen him before this, but that was nice. He seems like a good dude, honestly.” Renée bops to the music, biting the straw in her cranberry and vodka.

  “You must be drunk.” I roll my eyes.

  “Come on, Lark. You know he’s not that bad. Sure, he sleeps around. But so do you. I’ve never heard about him being an asshole or treating people with disrespect. He was the freaking class president of our college for Christ’s sake. Student government isn’t exactly for the cocky jocks, if you know what I mean. Face it, Collin is kind of nice.”

  If my best friend only knew how nice he is. Nice enough to make a case study of what makes me come. If he were a true asshole, he wouldn’t care if I finished first or ever. Trust me, I’ve slept with assholes who were just like that. See Jimmy Banion.

  No, I have to admit, the more time I’m forced to come into the office and the interactions we’ve had over the past few weeks, that Collin isn’t so bad. That maybe the first impression I took with me and etched on my heart when it came to him was … well, dead wrong.

  Sometimes, the loud, obnoxious, cocky guy that everyone thinks is an asshole ends up being the unsung hero. From the jump, I thought Collin was the kind of guy who wouldn’t pay for dates, left girls unsatisfied in the bedroom, didn’t want to meet your mom … and I was dead wrong. Renée is right, he is nice. But I’m not going to tell him that.

  “Should we get a drink? It’s only fair we use him for alcohol.” My bestie grabs my hand and weaves us over to the bar.

  I order another glass of wine, and she orders a preemptive cranberry and vodka even though she isn’t done with her first one.

  “Taking advantage of my credit card, Bradley?”

  That voice tickles my ear. I don’t turn, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

  “Just trying to run you into debt,” I say sweetly, accepting my wineglass from the bartender.

  When I turn to look at him, his gaze is fixated on me. Collin towers over most people in this bar, and a shiver runs down my spine at just how big he is in size compared to me. It’s cliché that it’s sexy, but I know how he uses his size and muscles more than the average girl in here. Or maybe there are more than a few in here who do know.

  In the back of my head, I’ve been thinking about him since our office staff meeting. Of course, I would get him for Secret Santa because that was just my luck with this holiday. And I could be doubly annoyed because I want to put thought into what I buy him. Fuck my life.

  “Collin, thanks for the drink.” A blonde walks up and runs her hand down his arm.

  She stays in our space, and annoyance flits through my chest.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, not taking his eyes from me.

  Blondie stays for a second more but then takes the hint and wanders off.

  “Hey, Collin, good to see you. Thanks for the drink.” Renée smirks between the two of us.

  “Renée, right? I thought Lark cared for someone under that thorny, frigid heart.”

  “You’re an ass,” I mutter.

  “She’s actually an alpha roll.” My best friend beams at him.

  “A what?” Collin chuckles.

  “We read a lot of romance, Lark and I, and the heroes are often referred to using slang. Alphas are usually billionaire assholes who are grumpy and closed off emotionally and just … well, you think they’re hot assholes, basically.”

  “A hot asshole is a good term for her.” Collin flashes me a smirk.

  “But then there is the cinnamon roll or the mushy good guy who takes care of everyone and whose heart is too good for this world. She’s a mix of both. Hence, an alpha roll. But she won’t let you see her cinnamon roll side until you break through the alpha side.

  “And I’m not a billionaire,” I add, amused at this ridiculous analogy but not unwilling to add fuel.

  “Yet.” Collin raises an eyebrow at me.

  It’s a subtle nod to how good he thinks I am at my job, but it leaves me with a sense of pride, nonetheless.

  “What, no one hanging off your arm tonight?” I have to knock him down a few pegs because of it.

  “You going to make some comment about me inviting Sydney to this?”

  This bastard. Of course, he saw how his welcoming attitude toward the new girl made me feel some type of way. And that I was jealous, not that I’d admit it. Regardless of my valid feelings for how Sydney doesn’t deserve the podcast she currently has, Collin chatting her up in front of everyone pissed me off.

  “Aw, did you think I’d be jealous over your new office flirtation? It’ll be a nice change for you, someone who actually bats their eyes in your direction instead of glares daggers.”

  “Come on, doll, I think we both know I love it when you stare daggers at me.”

  “You don’t have to call me that,” I grit, annoyed that it’s cute he has a nickname for me.

  “But you look like the ones my sister used to play with. Those sexy ones with all the hair and the big lips. Those might have been what brought on my first wet dream.” He looks inquisitive.

  Renée laughs beside me. “He’s funny.”

  “Don’t encourage him. Thanks for the drinks. We’ll, uh, see you around I guess.”

  A flash of disappointment moves through his eyes as I walk off, making sure Renée is with me.

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad.” She giggles as I drag her away.

  “Shut up.”

  But she’s right. I can’t help that my eyes keep drifting to where Collin is, more than a few times catching him watching me, too. The bar feels like it’s been charged up several dozen degrees since I realized he was in attendance. I try to focus on Renée, on shuffling along to whatever song and trying to enjoy the night out because I’m here anyway.

  When my friend finds a guy she might be interested in, I beg off to the bathroom to give her time alone with him. And walk right past Collin, who is talking to some guys currently playing a game of pool. He’s deep in conversation when I first approach the area, talking to a couple I recognize. Jesse, Collin’s best friend from college, and his wife, Dana, are sitting on the couch intertwined as they talk with Collin about something. I guess their friendship always surprised me, since Jesse was total boyfriend material back then and got married so young, but it looks like he and Collin are still close.

  He catches my eye and breaks off from the group.

  “You’re being awfully low-key tonight,” I remark, something in me needing to engage him.

  His eyes dart around, making him look suspicious and jumpy. But he answers,

  “I’m not always the life of the party.”

  “Psh, okay. Says the guy who dedicated an entire frat party to himself on his birthday.”

  His eyes go shifty again. “You were at that party?”

  “Sorry, am I boring you? Are you looking for someone else?” Rejection pierces my gut.

  If he plans on going home with some girl …

  The thought makes me suddenly nauseous, and I hate that it does.

  Collin lets out a loud cough and then another one, holding on to his throat after.

  “Are you okay?”

  He continues coughing, but it sounds worse. “Just getting smokey in here.”

  “Uh, yeah, it’s a bar.”

  Collin is trying to reach into his pocket, but he’s not pulling out anything, and his cough is now a wheeze.

  “What the hell, Collin? Is this a joke?” My heart begins to beat faster, panic edging at my veins.

  “I can’t find,” he coughs, “my inhaler.”

  “You have asthma?” The thought shocks me.

  He is a smug, muscled, gorgeous man who struts around like he knows it. He doesn’t … well, it’s surprising that he has this flaw, though it’s not a flaw, but in this moment of surprise, I’m stunned by it. Something like asthma doesn’t factor into how I categorize Collin in my brain, and now it feels like I have to go back to the drawing board.

  “Come on.” I grab his hand and pull him with me, trying to make for the closest exit.

  Collin’s palm is weighty and solid pressed against mine, and this caretaker role I’ve just put on like a new costume feels strange. But I want to help him, and he clearly can’t do what he needs to inside this dark, crowded bar.

  I finally make it to a back exit and push hard, pulling us into the cold night air.

  He seems to take a better breath, then pulls his inhaler out of his pocket and sucks on it after releasing a puff. My hand is still wrapped around his free one, and I can’t seem to let go. Worry seizes my chest, but when I watch him take a few deeper breaths, it eases up.

  “The damn vapes. For years I was fine in bars because cigarettes were banned and I could walk away from weed or smokers outside. But now people are just sucking on those things inside and it suffocates me.”

  I rub his back as he bends, balancing his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath. My hand moves in slow, methodical circles, the softness of his long sleeve tickling my palm. I feel protective over him, like if he isn’t okay, I need to help with a solution.

  Weird.

  “I didn’t realize you have asthma.”

  “It’s not something I advertise. I don’t hide it, and it’s usually not a problem, but it’s not something that defines me, you know.”

  “Could be a hell of a pickup line,” I joke, trying to ease some of the anxiety still coursing through me.

  Collin straightens to his full height, and I’m relieved to see he’s still the giant demigod I know and hate.

  “You’re not wrong. Maybe I’ll use that. It sure did get you out here with me.”

  “Ah, see, I knew this was a ploy,” I say quietly, more than aware now that we’re alone.

  “You’re shivering.” His eyes rake over my body as if he’s just noticed I’m covered in nothing but a skimpy silk midi-dress and knee-high boots.

  “Didn’t think to grab my coat when you were choking on air in there.” My lips twitch.

  He steps to me, running his hands up and down my arms. My pulse notches up two levels, and then Collin pulls me into him. I go willingly, my body betraying me because it wants to feel his on it.

  Our chests are pressed together, the muffled notes of Kelly Clarkson’s “Wrapped in Red” coming from the building behind us.

  “Nice necklace. Very festive.” He twists the red and green beads around one finger.

  “Renée put them on me,” I explain.

  “I think you actually do like Christmas.”

  “How wrong you are.”

  “Want me to take you home?” Those emerald eyes are a dilated forest green.

  If he brings me home, I know where this goes. “I can Uber. I don’t get in the car with people who’ve been drinking.”

  “And I don’t drive when I am. Haven’t had a drop tonight since I brought my car.” He holds up three fingers like he’s a scout.

  “Do you think you’re staying when we get there?”

  Collin bends, his breath ghosting over my lips. “You know I am, doll.”

  “Then we better go get my coat.”

  It’s an unspoken agreement, a nod to the fact that we were probably going to end up in one of our beds together before this night even started.

  Even though I should be scared of what this means, I can’t fight the feeling, as he drives through the streets to my apartment, that I’m falling into something I’ve silently craved since the first time I saw him.

  12

  COLLIN