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He’s watching me with challenging eyes. “That’s what I really want for Christmas. If you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“There’s a lot of time between now and Christmas,” he says with a confident grin. “Anythingcan happen.”
I’m wondering what exactly he’s thinking as he picks up another ornament and places it on the tree.
“Nothingis going to happen,” I say as I turn back to the box. I’m rummaging through it as Lucy comes over, wagging her tail. She shoves her head in the box and tries to grab an old dried-up Play-Doh ornament I made in elementary school. I have to wrestle it away from her.
“Lucy,” August says in a firm tone. “That’s enough.”
The dog looks up at him with puppy dog eyes and then trots away.
We put up a few more ornaments in silence. August isn’t so bad when he’s not talking.
“How come you weren’t at the wedding?” he asks as I put up an ornament of Santa in a bathing suit and sunglasses at the beach.
“Were you there?”
He nods. “I was.”
I huff out a breath as I go back to the box. “I was upset.”
“About what?”
“My mom divorced my dad out of the blue,” I say with my tone rising and my body tensing. “And what? I’m supposed to just go to the wedding like it’s all good? Like she didn’t just tear my family apart for her ’soulmate’?”
August shrugs. “Sometimes people don’t get it right the first time around. They look like soulmates to me.”
“My dad could have been her soulmate if she tried a little harder,” I say, tasting the bitterness on my tongue.
Maybe I’m not so ready to forgive. Maybe I should have stayed in Australia for a little bit longer.
“Dinner is ready,” Mom says, poking her head out of the kitchen. “There’s hardly any decorations on the tree! What have you two been doing?”
“Secret step-sibling stuff,” August says with a raised eyebrow. “No step-parents allowed.”
“No fair,” Mom says with a playful pouting face. “Can you two set the table?”
“Sure, Mom,” I say with a forced smile.
She disappears back into the kitchen as August comes strolling over with a frustratingly sexy grin on his face.
I glare at him. “Can you set the table without making it sound dirty?”
“I think so,” he answers. “What order should we set the table? I think we should fork first and then spoon.”
I shake my head as I look up at him. “You’re impossible.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he says in a low voice as he slides his hand on my lower back while we walk. Tingles erupt along my skin. “You and me areverypossible. I’d even say it’s likely.”
I step away from his hand and my whole body craves having it back on me.
“I’d say you’re crazy,” I whisper back. “And inappropriate.”
“And sexy?”
I grit my teeth as I glare at him. “We’re related.”
