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Nic tugs on my skirt. “What the hell is this?”
My dress is classy. The black cap sleeve bodice is a soft velvet. The skirt is covered in kittens in Santa hats. “Christmas pussy,” I say with a wink. Nic lifts me off the step, spinning me around and making my heart soar before he slides me down his body to set me back on my feet.
“It’s hideous,” he whispers, and his minty breath is warm on my lips.
Voices float out of the great room, but for the moment, we’re alone. I slip a knee between his legs, pressing myself closer. “Choose your next words carefully, Mr. Fontana, or Mittens won’t be responsible for what happens next.”
“Oh, Mittens is not responsible for this,” he mumbles, kissing the corner of my mouth, his lips light along my jaw, moving toward my neck as his hands slide up my ribs, his thumbs grazing side boob.
My lips brush his ear and suddenly his thigh is between my legs and I’m ready to hump him right here in the foyer where anyone could see, when the guest bedroom door flies open.
Nic flings me away as Timothy and Mina stumble out, laughing. That laughter dies abruptly when they see us.
Timothy’s eyes are wide like Christmas morning. Mina, meanwhile, has a Cheshire cat smile on her face.
Shit.
I bend, using the excuse of putting my shoes on to hide my red face.
Nic is doing nothing to help our cause by standing there, rubbing the back of his neck in silence. So long as no one notices the outline of his hard-on in those too-tight slacks—
Goddammit. How could anyone not? I take charge, stomping up to Timothy and tugging his bright blue tie so I can inspect the print. “Dancing dicks wrapped in Christmas lights? You think you can win with that?” The coveted Best Dressed trophy is as good as his.
The trophy is a dildo mounted on a plank of wood, the whole thing spray-painted in glittery red and white stripes, like a candy cane. Two massive bells serve as balls. The winner each year scribbles their name on the plank. My name is on it twice. Timothy’s is on it five times. Nic has never and will never win.
My brother eyes my dress, shaking his head sadly. “Kittens in Santa hats. I’m disappointed.”
I yank his tie because I’m an ass. “Where did you get this?”
“I made it,” Mina says. “I commissioned the art and had it printed onto the fabric.”
Timothy looks over my head at Nic. “What were you two—” He coughs when I tighten his dick tie enough to let him know I will strangle him with it.
“Come on.” Mina takes my arm and pulls me away.
“That’s brilliant,” I say, pointing to her shoes. The same material as Timothy’s tie adorns her shoes in ridiculously large bows.
“Seriously, sell me some drawings and we can make whatever we want.” Mina pauses. “Although it might be a good idea to limit the dicks.”
She has a point. Unlimited dick is going to get me in trouble.
She guides me into the dining room with all the instincts needed to survive a Foley Folly—straight to the booze.
My mother’s punch, topped with a splash of champagne, is responsible for plenty of hangovers and a lot of bad decisions. Loaded up, we loop around to the fire in the great room, a little apart from the handful of early arrivals chatting with Amanda and Hazel. Christmas music plays softly over the sound system, something remarkably tasteful by a string quartet. The raucous stuff will come later after the kids have been put to bed and the punch runs out.
Mina smiles when I take a sip of my drink. “Your lipstick is on Nic’s ear, by the way.”
Shit.Nic is still out by the door with Timothy and as big of a dumbass as my brother is, he’s bound to notice the bright red shade.
“Don’t worry.” She laughs softly. “Timothy will tell him before anyone else sees. But tell me, honestly, when did you two start hooking up? And don’t deny it, we know you are.”
They know. That’s it. Timothy has a big mouth. By the end of tonight, my whole family will know. Every single guest, and whoever they tell, on and on until someone publicly connects me to Nic. Then the entire world will know I’m another notch on his bedpost.
I take a step away from the fire, suddenly too hot.
Mina prods me.
“The day you arrived,” I mumble.
