Merry Little Kissmas – Evergreen Falls Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Sports Tags Authors: Lauren Blakely Advertisement

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1. Your memory is a steel trap.

2. Kristen Bell would play you in the Webflix movie of your Christmas matchmaking life.

3. You want the world to make sense, so you try to decipher it with your planners.

4. You’re a formidable competitor and would absolutely destroy me on game night—then gift-wrap my defeat and put it under the tree, tied up neatly with a red ribbon.

I let it marinate for another minute. My thoughts keep returning to her pink scarf and how pretty she looked in it today. More than that, how it simply suited her. Somehow, it just made sense that she’d wear a pink scarf. That’s not an observation worthy of her, though…

Until…

I smile and add the final item on my list.

5. You have that scarf in every shade of Christmas—and to you, that’s red, green, white, pink, and midnight blue.

I add it to the draft and hit send. Let’s see what she does with that. The bubbles dance, but she doesn’t reply right away. As I’m waiting, a message from Jason pops up.

Jason: How’s it going? Has she found the future Mrs. Bishop yet?

Rowan: Yes. I got married tonight.

Jason: Congrats! Want some candlesticks?

Rowan: Does anyone want candlesticks?

Jason: What even are candlesticks for?

Rowan: Fuck if I know.

Jason: Bet Isla would say they’re for Christmas.

Rowan: No doubt.

“No one loves Christmas like Isla does. Right, Wanda?” I say to the sleeping dog.

My little pup lets out a soft sigh and tucks herself into a tighter dog ball, her flag tail thumping against the down-alternative pillow. She’s such a little princess. I scratch her chin.

Seconds later, Isla replies with a photo of four Christmas scarves, neatly laid out on…is that her bed? Yes, yes, it is. A fluffy white duvet covers it, with an artfully folded—no, messily folded and deliberately so—coral blanket on the end of the mattress. There’s a cushioned bench at the foot of it, all blush pink and feminine. The photo is a secret window into her world. Her bedroom is so pretty and suits her so well.

I pull my gaze away from the photo to read the text.

Isla: Four scarves, actually. Pink, white, red, and mint green.

Rowan: So, I was right.

Isla: I don’t know, Rowan. Are you?

I roll my eyes, then write back.

Rowan: Isla, I came damn close.

Isla: Is this horseshoes?

Rowan: No, it’s life, sweetheart, and I nailed it.

Isla: Maybe…but you said I had five scarves, and your colors were slightly off. Don’t worry. I know how we can resolve this.

Rowan: Do tell.

Isla: Let me have one guess at another trait of yours for my list. If I win, you’ll award me this round.

Rowan: And if you don’t?

Isla: You can have bragging rights, of course.

I can’t seem to stop texting her, so I type out a reply. Besides, I like bragging rights.

Rowan: Have at it.

I can picture her on that fancy bed, lounging in matching PJs and fuzzy socks, with a face mask and her hair pulled back in a neat headband. In my imagination, she rubs her palms as she prepares to zing me.

Isla: One more thing I know about you. All your boxer briefs are black.

My jaw falls open. Holy shit. She is good. Too good. She fucking nailed me. It’s one thing for me to observe her, to pick up on the things she collects, the way she organizes the world—but this? This means she’s been paying attention enough to make a scarily well-educated guess.

That should be unsettling, but it makes me want to push back harder. Except…hold on. Did she really win?

With a wicked smile, I hop out of bed, hoof it downstairs, and grab the bag with the candy cane boxers my teammates gave me. I snap a pic of them and send her proof that I win this round.

Rowan: Close, sweetheart. They are all black. Except, what do you say about this new pair I got today?

And seconds later, she replies.

Isla: Those are boxers. I said boxer briefs.

I stop on my way back upstairs. Stare at the design. Shake my head. And concede victory.

Rowan: I know when to back down. You won this battle, Isla.

Isla: Pumps fist! Also, you’d look cute in those candy cane boxers. And I’ll add that to my list of things I know about you: Isn’t afraid to wear festive underwear.

Rowan: Who said I’ll wear them?

Isla: Oh, you will. You will.

This woman. She’s fucking unstoppable. And…why didn’t I think of that word as a synonym for persistent?

Back in bed, I click over to the word-a-day app and enter persistent to check other options. Tenacious is one, and irrepressible is another. I add both words to my intel about Isla—but this one I’ll keep in my Notes app, just for me. A dossier on the opposition. If more than a decade in the pros has taught me anything, it’s to study my opponent. To learn their weaknesses, but also their strengths.

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