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Finally. “See, told you they were on their way,” I whisper, but instead of another pretty eye roll, I get a look packed with the kind of concern that sets my teeth on edge.
“Stormy, you can’t just—”
It’s just a delay. That’s why she’s calling.
I’ll have to bump the flight a couple hours, that’s all.
Except I know that’s not all by the way Misty turns, shutting me out with her shoulder as she heads back into the living room.
“I know you do.” She’s dropped her voice to an urgent whisper, but I can still hear every word. “But what about—”
Fuck me.
She wants to know what to do about the jackass abandoned in her apartment. I can feel the heat crawling up my neck, practically see the pity that’s going to be in her pretty green eyes—
“Bullshit!” she snaps at the phone that’s already gone dark, and when she turns, it’s not pity in her eyes at all.
Whoa.Misty’s pissed.
* * *
Misty
Oh,my blood is boiling now. I whirl around to face Noel, who’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
I huff. “What’s wrong with your buddy to leave you like that? And seriously, Stormy— it’s Christmas Eve and, and—” I throw my hands up, no idea what to say. “She’s not like this. She doesn’t just not show up when she’s supposed to.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on with them, but this screws your plans too.”
Noel’s phone pings with a text, and when he checks it, his face stays blank as a slate.
“Douchey Diesel?”
His lips start twitching like he’s trying not to laugh and, wow, he has a really nice mouth. Noel seems like a nice guy. Nicer than that douche Diesel for sure now, even though Stormy apparently thinks he’s nice enough for whatever happened in Vegas to happen. And for whatever’s going on today to go on.
Gah.
“Yeah, but he’s actually a good guy.”
“It’s bullshit. But we’re not going to let him ruin your night or mine.” And before he can even ask, I hold up a hand. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m still not going to Vegas with you.”
This time his laugh is the real thing, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, it does a little something to me. Not enough to act on. No way. But so what if he’s one of those guys who never turns it off? He’s funny and kind of sweet, and his flirting feels good.
But instead of asking what I have in mind, he shakes his head and thumbs through his phone.
Craning forward, I peek at what he’s doing.
No way.
“Hey, forget Uber,” I say, pushing his phone down. “It’s Christmas Eve. Stormy said she’d be home tonight. Hang out with me until Diesel picks you up. We can do Christmas stuff!”
“Aww, Mistletoe, you’re a sweetheart to worry about me. But I’m good.”
He almost looks like it too. But even in the little time we’ve spent together, I know better. “What if I’m not?”
Now I’ve got his attention.
“Why aren’t you good?”
