Ridge tugs the Santa hat from his head as he looks at the tree, pleased with what we just did. Me? I stand back and look at our masterpiece, grimacing.
“This is so terrible that I almost feel bad for you,” I say, somewhere between laughing and cringing. My hat came off about ten minutes ago because my head was damn near sweating. Ridge gave me shit when I peeled it off, but I couldn’t help it. “You have this extremely dreadful tree in this beautiful house. It just feels so wrong.”
Ridge’s house is gorgeous. It’s all cathedral ceilings and huge windows. It’s modern with a hint of rustic farmhouse. And it’s immaculate. Which, I learned when we first got here, is because he’s a neat freak, and I can appreciate that because I’m the same way.
It’s not what I imagined his bachelor pad might look like, and I really do feel like we did his home dirty by bringing this tree and its ugly-ass ornaments here.
“I think it looks good.” He gives Marlin a few pats on his stomach, and the dog literally does nothing.
In the hour or so I’ve been here, he’s snored, farted, and slept.
“If Mama Adams stops over, this was your idea,” I warn him. “Don’t be throwing me under the bus, big guy.”
“She won’t be over tonight. It’s snowing, and when it’s snowing, my parents make popcorn and watch movies.” He tells me this like it’s absolutely no big deal. As if his parents aren’t doing shit that is in romance novels and rom-coms or something, even though they’ve got to be in their fifties.
When he catches me gawking at him, he shrugs. “What?”
“They make popcorn and watch movies?” I gasp. “Together? Like … the two of them?”
“Yeah?” He looks at me like I’m a nut. “They’ve been married for thirty years. They do weird, boring shit, okay? But it makes them happy.”
“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” I squeak. “Who chooses the movie?”
“My mom,” he says instantly. “Always.”
“What if she chooses a cheesy rom-com?”
“Then they watch a cheesy rom-com.” He relaxes back. “You saw my parents, right? My mom says jump, and my dad says how high, all while he has a smile on his face. That’s their dynamic.”
I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ve dated plenty of men, and I’ve had three semi-serious boyfriends, yet not one of them ever did that for me. I thought I was the problem, or maybe men just all sucked. Maybe I’m wrong.
“That’s … really cool,” I whisper, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. “You’re really lucky that your family is so … well, strong.”
Right when those words leave my lips, I know that I’ve set myself up for questions about my own family. So, before Ridge gets a chance to blurt anything out, I peek at my watch.
“I should probably get going.” I glance at Marlin and then Ridge, daring to look him in the eye. “Today, surprisingly, … didn’t suck. So, at the risk of you teasing me later for saying this, thank you. For getting me out of my own head.”
“Didn’t suck, huh?” He grins. “Is that your way of saying you had a good time, Fireball?”
Rolling my eyes, I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. “I mean, I suppose it wasn’ttoobad.”
As I stand up, he stands too.
“You know, tomorrow, we go back to hating each other. There’s still about six hours left of our truce. Why don’t you stay for dinner?” He cringes. “I don’t have anything fancy, but I definitely have some boxes of Kraft mac and cheese and probably some tater tots.”
“I may be from the city, but when it comes to food, I’m pretty basic.” I laugh. “I mean, I live off Toaster Strudels, crunchy Cheetos, and Coca-Cola.” I smile. “You had me at the wordKraft. And tater tots?” I nod. “Consider me sold, big guy.”
“That reminds me; don’t forget those when I take you home,” he says. “But if you do, trust me, they’ll be here when you remember them. Toaster Strudels are gross.”
My mouth hangs open. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. After all, we’re having a good evening.”
I know I should be going. Nothing good can come out of prolonging hanging out with Ridge, and it’ll only complicate the business side of things even more. But today was fun. And I’m not quite ready for that to end.
Besides, what am I going to do at home? Watch a crime documentary?
“All right then, let’s go cook a terrible dinner to go along with our ugly-ass tree.” He grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen.
Toying with the asshole side of Ridge Adams when we hate each other is fun and a little sexy. But spending the day with the sweet side of him … that might be even better.
