“Kneecaps are supposed to be boney.” His hands grab my waist, pulling me back to his chest so I’m fully sitting in his lap with his arms loosely at my sides. “There. Are you comfortable?”
Am I comfortable? That is the question.
The easy answer is yes, I’m physically comfortable.
That also happens to be the complicated answer.Why do I feel so comfortable in Caleb’s lap?
It’s fine. Sitting on someone’s lap is a totally acceptable thing to do at Christmastime. I mean, millions of kids sit on Santa’s lap, and nobody seems to care, so I shouldn’t make a big deal out of this.
I shift my gaze to the lighted float in front of us while discreetly pushing his hand away from my hip so it’s resting more on the arm of the chair than against my body. “That’s better.”
He snickers, but I ignore it.
We sit in silence for a second, watching the passersby, until he shifts his position, causing my blanket to crunch under his touch.
“What the heck is this? Do you have a tarp wrapped around you?”
I give him a pointed side-eye, lowering my voice. “It’s the All-Weather Blanket.”
“Oh, nice! I’ve never seen one up close,” he whispers between us. “It’s like a tarp muumuu. Perfect for all kinds of weather.”
“That’s kind of the point.” I bite back my smile. “It’s a really great product—very warm.”
“It better be a great product since it’s Justin’s first love.”
My eyes fall to my lap.
“Sorry.” Caleb leans down, trying to catch my gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I lift my head, feigning indifference. “It’s fine. I know what you meant.” I hold his stare for one more second, just to prove howfineI am, before glancing back to the high school marching band performing “Little Drummer Boy” as they walk by.
“Do you come to this parade every year?”
“Yeah, ever since I was a little girl.”
“We didn’t have anything like this in Phoenix.” His words are innocent, but the warmth of his breath tickles my ear, sending goosebumps down my neck to my spine, involuntarily making me shiver.
“Are you cold?” His voice has that manly protective layer behind it that most girls love. ThatIlove…in situations where the man saying it is not my boyfriend’s twin brother.
“No, I’m fine.” It was just your freaking warm breath on my ear.
“I would wrap you up in my arms, but—”
“No.” I whip my head to him, using my palm as a stop sign. “We’re good.”
His lips turn upward like he finds my interruption amusing. “Butinstead”—he reaches for the cocoa in the cupholder—“I’ll offer you some hot chocolate to keep you warm.”
“Oh.” I glance down at the cup. “Thanks, but I only like—”
“Mint-flavored?” He pushes it toward me. “I know.”
Heknows? How does he know? I can barely remember telling him that. And I can barely remember someone doing something thoughtful for me. I’m usually the one giving thoughtful gifts.
“Thanks.” I take the cup from his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers during the transfer.
“I’m curious,” he says, watching me lift the cocoa to my mouth.
“About what?” I turn back to the parade because that’s what we’re here to see and because all this close-proximity eye contact with Caleb isn’t necessary.
