Page 8 of Naughty-ish

“I’m so sorry,” I state, holding up my hands to prevent a full collision.

“Holliday?” The deep masculine voice causes me to look up into twinkling blue eyes.

“Nick.”

“What are you doing?”

Glancing around the aisle, I answer with the obvious. “Christmas shopping.” Then I think again. “Actually, I’m driving myself mad because my ex promised my son a Zlot 720, which is now up to me to purchase and impossible to find.”

Peering over Nick’s shoulder, I see two women fighting over the last gaming system on a flatbed cart. The poor salesperson hardly had time to finish pushing it down the aisle.

“I hate the holidays,” I mutter.

“You don’t mean that,” Nick says, tilting his head. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” His encouragement hints a little at sarcasm.

“How is this bringing me cheer?” I wave at the shelves around me, then shake my head. “You know what? Forget I said that. I’m sorry. If you enjoy this kind of thing, then ho-ho-ho.” My voice drops, and Nick laughs hefty like his belly jiggles, although I doubt his firm abs even wiggle.

“A Zlot 720, you say?” He arches a brow. “I might know a guy.” The statement sounds ominous and rather gangster, but the wide grin exposing his white teeth flips my mood.

If his statement was true, I might kiss him. Mistletoe not required.

A moment of comforting silence passes between us with his dark blue eyes on me. Finally, he says, “How about a hot chocolate?”

“That’s . . . festive, but you don’t need to—”

“I want to.” His raised hand emphasizes his honesty, and then he slides that same hand down my arm and tangles his fingers with mine. “Please.”

Before I fully accept his invitation, he tugs me forward, leading me out of the store and down the outdoor walkway to a donut shop across the parking lot. And all the while, I can only concentrate on how easily he took my hand, entwining our fingers like we’re a couple. The heat of his palm infuses mine, causing my heart to nearly beat out of my chest while he’s the epitome of calmness.

Nothing happening here. Just holding hands with my hot neighbor.

“I love their hot chocolate,” I say, finally finding my voice as we enter the place.

“I know.”

This brings me up short. “How?”

Nick and I don’t speak often. He works in my yard. I leave him surprises on his stoop. But we don’t hang out. We don’t exchange phone numbers or share long conversations. I know he’s a fireman because I’ve seen him in his uniform. He owns a motorcycle, a large pickup truck, and a house. That’s the extent of my knowledge. A woman in his life? I haven’t seen another one at his home since last summer, but that doesn’t mean after dark someone isn’t over there with him, pinned against an inside wall, allowing him to kiss her silly.

“Eloise told me. I asked her how you like your coffee once, and she told me you don’t drink it. Only hot chocolate on occasion. Today seems like an occasion.” He chuckles.

“If you want to offer me something stronger, I’d take it,” I quip, before I can rein the comment in.

He arches a brow as we near the counter. “Really?”

I shrug. What am I suggesting? He buy me a drink? Ask me out on a date? Bring me to his house and kiss me senseless? I’m being ridiculous again.

Nick orders hot drinks—chocolate for me, coffee for him—and we take a seat at a small table in the corner.

“So, what can I do to turn your bah humbug spirit around?” he teases me with a smile.

Buying myself time, I lift my steamy mug and sip. Whip cream tips my nose and I swipe at the sweetness before popping my finger in my mouth. Nick watches the move, eyes darkening like coal.

“You’ve already done enough. The lights on the house really are beautiful. Thanks again for playing along with Nash and letting him think our elf did it.”

“Ah, the elf. He’s always watching, isn’t he?” Nick winks.

God, that wink. “Thank goodness ours stays on the first floor,” I state.