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I’m not that guy. My ficus was a dead husk well before I left town to help Mom. Our clients pay astronomical sums to get their ads in front of prospective clients and it’s a competitive industry, especially starting out. Everyone I know puts in ridiculous overtime and it seems normal until I spend time outside my work bubble and realize other people have lives. Partners they actually get to spend time with. Gazing into Carl’s eyes, surrounded by the magic of the holiday season, part of me wants to be someone entirely different.
Not an absentee son, but one my mother can be proud to introduce to the people in her life. Not the unreliable boyfriend who always has something work-related come up last minute to cancel all our best laid plans. The sort of man Carl deserves to have holding his hand as he skates around the tree and goes to his family’s big party. And maybe I can’t be that person for real, but Carl offered me a chance to pretend. To play that role for the next week.
“Hey, Carl?”
“Yeah?” He tears his gaze away from the enormous tree and the skating couples and gives me a questioning look.
“Let’s do it.”
“It?” Carl’s voice goes up an octave at the question. “Dowhatexactly?”
“Let’s be fake boyfriends until I have to go home. I’ve missed all the magic of the season too—so, why not? We can do the entire over-the-top song and dance. Matching Christmas Eve pajama selfies, skating in the park, his-and-his ugly sweaters for the party. Pull out all the stops.”
“Just to be clear, I was only suggesting we pretend for the party, but it sounds like you want to, what? Make a list of all the holiday traditions couples do and pretend?”
“Yeah. You said you missed it and I do too. Plus, it will make our act more believable for the party. So why not?”
Carl splutters for a moment, but then he nods. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll make a list.”
“And check it twice.” I grin at him.
“Pretty sure this makes us both naughty,” Carl says.
“I’m alright with that, as long as you are.” I nudge our shoulders together, glad of an excuse to get closer to him. He flashes me a grin.
“I am. Just one thing?” His smile fades to worry as he bites his lip.
“Yeah?”
“If we’re doing this, I don’t want there to be any confusion.” Carl meets my gaze. “I don’t do casual sex.”
“Got it. Does that mean we have to skip kissing under the mistletoe?”
“Oh, kissing is fine. I’d classify that as romance, not sex.” He rubs at his neck, as if talking about kissing flusters him, but from his smile, it’s a good kind of flustered.
“Hmm, in that case, pucker up, baby.” I point up to the wire-frame archway covered in holiday greenery that we’re standing under. Someone hung a ball of mistletoe among the lights.
Carl follows my gaze, then he grins as he loops an arm around my neck. He pulls me into the sweetest kiss I’ve had in ages. His body presses against me as he clings to my neck and I open to his tongue. I let him lead as our lips meld and he floods my senses with desire.
Chapter 5
Carl—December 18th
Myeyesflutteropen,and I realize I’m not thinking clearly. I just kissed a relative stranger in the middle of the Christmas market. Not just any stranger, but Tina’s workaholic son. Who almost never comes home to visit his aging mother because he’s too busy chasing the almighty dollar. What am I thinking?
But then I gaze into Nick’s warm caramel eyes, and I know exactly what I’m thinking. I want to be swept off my feet, even if it’s not real. Nick is offering me the best chance I’ve got at a textbook perfect romantic holiday season. He’s attractive and charming and best of all, I know there’s no chance of this lasting past New Year’s Eve. So there’s no pressure for this to be something it’s not. No weight of unspoken expectations.
Nick agreed to no sex, and he seems just as enthusiastic about having a holiday date as I am. We can keep my family off my back, and our hearts out of it, all while soaking up the romantic memories for when I’m alone again come January first. It’s a foolproof plan.
“Mm. You okay?” Nick tips up my chin, noticing the nerves from my racing thoughts.
“Perfect.” I smile at him, forcing my muscles to unclench.
“Good. Want to skate now?” Nick offers me his arm and I loop mine through his.
“Sure, come on, hopefully they still have rentals in our sizes.” I tug him toward the kiosk where they sell tickets and skate rentals. I pay for two sets.
“I can get my own,” Nick protests.
