Page 17 of Under The Meh-stletoe

"Not really, but there are developments."

She took her phone out of her pocket and gave it to me; she took off her jacket. The movement did something to her sweater, where it tightened around her breasts and belly. The neck of her clothing dropped low enough that it showed me extra skin, and made me think of things I shouldn't be thinking in public.

I couldn't help the way my thoughts of nibbling and licking intensified, when she turned to hang her jacket from the chair. The peek of her bra may have been accidental, but the gorgeous lime color clashed spectacularly, tantalizingly, with her orange and pink hair. If my attention narrowed on it, that was to be expected. Color drew me in, and her skin drew me in. I wanted to fill my hands with flesh, and maybe— maybe — nothing. Looking was supposed to help with habituation but, so far, that plan was going sideways fast.

She didn't seem to notice where my eyes and thoughts had been. She took her cell back and leaned close to me. "Here, look."

She showed me the screen. I forced my eyes away from her and onto her phone.

"I called everyone on the list my sister sent me." She scrolled down the screen; multiple names showed on a spreadsheet in different colors. "Most of them are unavailable for some reason—" she got closer to my ear— "one of them is even dead, but I haven't told Renata yet."

I snorted. She smirked and pulled away.

"There are four likely candidates, but they all want to be courted. Old men, I swear."

I checked my watch. Ten minutes until the surprise. She'd hate it, and so would I.

"Okay. So we're visiting these four candidates, plus María's dad."

"No, four total including María's dad." Ale put her phone away. "I talked to all of them. Next Tuesday afternoon we're going on a rural tour in search of our Santa."

"You said they want to be courted?"

She arched an eyebrow in my direction. "Doesn't mean they're going to get it. Rational arguments, remember?"

"So not begging on your part. What are you willing to do to get what you want out of these old men?"

"Ew, don't say it that way. Why don't you tell me what you're willing to do to get us a Santa?"

I leaned back and crossed my arms. "I'll be your chauffer for an afternoon. That's plenty."

"Pfft." The corner of her lips curled up. "You'll need to do more."

"I refuse to dress in red. You won't catch me wearing the white beard."

"Relax, grumpypants. You won't have to. But you might have to relax that frown and hold back on the eye rolling. You think you can do that? For a few hours?"

"It'll cost me." I gave her the most exasperated look I could muster. "It builds over time if I don't let it out."

She laughed. "You're terrible. What a terrible excuse."

The sound of her laughter pulled a small smile from me. "It's not an excuse. It makes me grind my teeth and my dentist gets mad."

Pri studied us; I ignored her. Ale laughed some more, so I continued.

"The tension builds until I get headaches. And what if my cortisol levels cause permanent cardiac issues?"

"Shut up." Mirth still poured out of Ale. "Cortisol levels, my ass."

Her ass was a risk factor to my cortisol levels, but it might surprise her why. I kept that to myself.

"You should try it out," I said. "Express your irritation when it happens. Don't hold back."

"You're the first person ever to tell me that."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"You won't make me cranky, Daniel."