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Ugh, God…
“Georgia! My youngest cousin, Ciara, runs over and hands me a picture frame. “Can you ask your fiancé to sign this gift for me? It’s for Cousin Savannah’s wedding.”
“So, you’re going to be Type-A like she is?”
“Never mind!” She snatches it away. “I can ask him myself.”
She runs over to Dominic and tugs on his pants leg.
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking with me…” Dante crosses his arms. “Don’t tell me that your family thinks he’s your fiancé?”
I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he throws his head back and laughs.
“That’s why he’s here, isn’t it?” He snorts. “Do you really think I’m going to let you get away with this?”
“I don’t see what it has to do with you.”
“Well, we’ll see about that. I believe I’m meeting your grandmother for dinner this week, so I’ll let you know how she takes the news.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would, and I will.”
I walk away from him as his laughter follows my every step.
If there was any doubt before, now it’s official.
This is definitely the worst Christmas ever…
SIXTEEN
COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO
DOMINIC
One more trolley ride later
“Here’s your extra key,” Georgia says, placing it on our suite’s dresser. “I’ll leave an emergency one under the outdoor mat just in case.”
“Thank you.”
“You need to make an appearance at the tree trimming contest in the morning,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “Wear the green flannel pajamas that are in the closet for the official picture. Any questions?”
“We need to talk about what just happened.”
“I’ll be sure to make a reservation for you to enjoy a private skiing session since you mentioned wanting to see the slopes.”
“Georgia, thekiss.”
“I texted Charlie and told him to take you on a private tour of the resort.” She looks out the window. “He’s looking forward to showing you some of the spots most guests don’t get to see.”
“Look at me, Georgia.”
“There’s a new spa with outdoor Jacuzzis that’s opening in February, but since you’re here with me, you can try it out early. Speaking of which…”
I walk over to her while she’s discussing her grandmother’s holiday dinner tradition. Tilting her chin up with my fingertips, I look into her eyes.
“Why would you ever tell your cousin that I’m impotent?”
