Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Rowan’s eyes widen. His smile burns off, replaced with a look of horror. “Shit. I did.”
I snort-laugh. “Real smooth, Rowan,” I tease, and yes, yes, yes! I finally have the fix for my Rowan lust. The man himself gave it to me. My brother.
“I was just…” Rowan starts, but he’s flustered, and it’s cracking me up. I found the cure. And I’m going to take another spoonful of the medicine.
“Tell me more about the date night you want to plan for my brother. I want all the details,” I goad, grabbing the box like it’s a treasure I’ve been hunting for in the jungle. “We’ll get him this, and what else? Some candles? Some rose petals?”
Rowan drags a hand across his beard, shaking his head, but knowing the game is on it seems. His gaze drifts off beyond the store to shops on the other side of the hallway—a bespoke candle maker and a fancy lotions and potions store. He turns back to me. “Why stop there? Let’s do it up. How about champagne? Bath bombs?”
Two can play, I see. “We can get massage oil next,” I suggest, holding my ground. He has no idea how much I need this—the chance to eradicate inappropriate thoughts of my brother’s best friend.
“We’ll make a playlist of seductive songs,” Rowan adds.
“Christmas ones, of course.”
“You probably already have that,” he says.
“Of course I do. I play it a lot. We can use my top-ten-sexy-holiday-songs one. And…we can even get him a card game full of naughty dares too,” I say, upping the ante.
“Shop for underthings,” he adds, seemingly not to be outdone.
This gamesmanship has worked so exceedingly well that I point the chocolate box right at him. “All brilliant ideas.” I pause, then deliver the final punch. “And while I appreciate your creativity, I’m a little concerned you’re not any good at dating.”
He scoffs. “You said the same thing about kissing, and I proved you wrong.”
Oops. Why did I go there? He’s right. But I can’t even get a retort in since a clerk in a red and white apron with dancing candy cane illustrations on the straps strides over to us. The name Nkem is etched into a silver name tag on her bib and the straps are adorned with pins, including one depicting the Nigerian flag. “Can I help you with a gift for the holidays? Something special perhaps?”
“Oh, we’re not—” Rowan begins.
“Together,” I finish.
“I simply meant something special for someone in your lives,” the woman says, smoothly.
Right, of course. I took her meaning the other way because of my dirty mind.
I straighten my spine and spin around, scanning the shelves in a flurry. Bonbons, truffles, salted caramels. Chocolate with peppermint—that could be perfect for Rowan.
Dammit. I need to stop thinking of him. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them. This was a bad idea, bringing him shopping with me. I can’t stop thinking of him when he’s right next to me. “I’ll take the twenty-piece standard Christmas gift box, Nkem,” I say, regaining my composure.
“Wonderful. It’s a huge hit.”
“And the chocolate with peppermint,” I add, and she grabs that box too. “Some of the salted caramels, as well,” I explain to Rowan, “Leighton will like those. We have a Friendsmas every year, but it’s hard to resist stealing some of hers.”
Rowan smiles. “Thief.”
“They’re good,” I say, unrepentant.
I load up on chocolates for past and current clients, then reach into my tote for my phone to pay for the teetering pile. But by the time I’ve fished it out, Rowan’s midway through swiping his phone across the tap screen.
“I’ve got this,” he says with confident finality.
I turn to him, my brow knit. “You’re buying…my gifts? Most of these were for my friends and clients. That’s too much.”
“Yep.” He puts his body between the register and me, like he’s making sure I don’t try to kill his payment.
But I’m too stunned to knock his phone away with mine. I can only say, “Thank you.”
As he signs the screen, I hand Nkem some canvas bags from my tote. “You come prepared to shop. Love it,” Nkem remarks.
“I do,” I say as Nkem packs the chocolates in one bag, then another.
“Happy holidays, chocolate lovers,” she says with a smile as Rowan shoulders both bags.
“Happy holidays,” I say, still equal parts thrown off and amazed at Rowan’s gesture.
When we’re out in the busy hallway, throngs of shoppers rushing by, I ask, “Why did you do that? You really didn’t have to.”
“I sabotaged your cookie swap last night. I figured it’s the least I could do.”
“I thought being my shopping bag boy was your way of making it up to me,” I say, and I can’t lie—I do enjoy the view of him hauling my gifts.
“You told me it was important to you that someone isn’t afraid to say he’s sorry.”