Page 146 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Well, you’re easy to please.”

“Although,” I said, sitting up with a stretch. “I should probably get into something more comfortable if we’re going to spend the evening lounging around. This dress is gorgeous but not exactly built for snuggling. And you promised me Christmas pajamas.”

He groaned but put on the silly pajamas that matched mine.

We returned to the living room.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked. “And before you answer, know that I have very strong opinions about Christmas movies.”

I laughed. “Oh, do you? Let me guess. Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas movie,” he said with mock seriousness. “But I was thinking more along the lines of It’s a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street.”

“Those are classics, but I was hoping for something a little more fun. Like Love Actually or The Holiday.”

“Romantic comedies,” he groaned dramatically. “I should have known.”

“Hey, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m the guest,” I said, poking him in the ribs. “I get to pick.”

“Fine, but I reserve the right to provide commentary throughout.”

“Deal.”

Before he pushed play, he stopped and looked at the Christmas tree. There was a frown on his face like something was wrong.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“There’s something in here I don’t remember putting up,” he said. He got up, walked to the tree, and reached into the branches. “Must have fallen from higher up.”

He pulled out a small, wrapped box, no bigger than his palm, tied with a delicate gold ribbon.

My heart stopped.

“Rhett, what is that?”

He looked at the box, then at me. I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. “Oh, shit. Clem, this isn’t⁠—”

“I love you,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in my haste to get them out. “I love you so much, but I’m not ready for… I mean, we’re having so much fun together, and I don’t want to rush things, and⁠—”

“Breathe,” he said gently, crossing to where I stood. “It’s not a ring.”

“It’s not?”

“It’s not.” He was trying not to smile, I could tell. “Though your panic is very flattering to my ego. I’ve never imagined proposing to a woman, but I’m pretty sure this is not the reaction a man is going for.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I wasn’t panicking. I was just clarifying my position.”

“Your position being that you’d rather not marry me?”

“My position being that I’m very happy with where we are right now,” I said firmly. “And I don’t want to complicate things by rushing into⁠—”

He silenced me with a kiss, soft and sweet and tasting like wine. “Clem,” he said against my lips. “Just open the damn box.”

With shaking hands, I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Nestled in white tissue paper was a small gold key.

“What is it?” I asked, though part of me already knew.

“It’s to this place,” he said, his voice suddenly uncertain. “I mean, if you want it. I cleared out some space in the walk-in closet for your things, and there’s a whole drawer in the bathroom that’s just sitting empty. I figured maybe you’d want to keep some stuff here. Come over whenever you want.”