Page 42 of The Naughty or Nice Deal

“Most people aren’t funny. And I do laugh.”

“I guarantee you I could count the number of times I’ve heard you laugh on one hand.”

Hayden makes another derisive sound. “You’re not that observant, Keller.”

“Oh, really?” I hold up my index finger. “There was the time that pompous banking CEO—George whatever-his-name-was—got so caught up in one of his ridiculous monologues that he missed the wet floor sign and went sliding across the lobby on his ass. Gabriel tried to cover his laugh with a coughing fit, but you didn’t even try to hide it.”

“No,” Hayden corrects, his mouth twitching. “I laughed because after he fell, you looked at him with that deadpan expression and said…” He imitates my flat tone perfectly. “‘Careful. Wet floor.’”

Heat creeps up my neck. I probably shouldn’t have said anything—the guy was a client, after all—but he’d been insufferable. He had a reputation for cycling through assistants based only on their looks so he could date them, and he made some gross comment about that being why I was hired too. When he went down, the words just slipped out before I could stop them.

“Okay, fine, and I thought I was going to get fired for that.” I hold up a second finger. “There was the time Ford first tried one of my chocolate croissants and made this sound that was probably illegal in several states, so I told him he needed to keep it PG in the office.”

“Well, you managed to fluster Ford, which is practically impossible. How could I not appreciate that?”

I raise a third finger. “The emergency meeting where the copier died and everyone was stressed out of their minds, and I walked in with the copies stupidly saying I was sorry they were late because I had to wipe the ass-prints off the scanner.”

“That wasn’t stupid.” Hayden shakes his head. “Everyone was wound so tight we could barely function, including the clients. You broke the tension exactly when we needed it.”

The fact that he not only remembers but understood what I was trying to do makes something warm unfurl in my chest. “And then there was the time that nightmare client brought her baby in and just… handed her to me like I was built-in childcare while she had her meeting. You walked out and found me doing the monkey dance.”

That had been mortifying. Not the dancing part—kids need entertainment—but being treated like I didn’t matter, like watching someone else’s child was automatically part of my job description. Gabriel had apologized later, and all three of them had been understanding when my actual work got delayed.

“Four times,” I say, wiggling my fingers. “That’s one hand. It’s honestly kind of sad.”

Hayden just shrugs, offering no comeback or snark, which is unusual enough to worry me.

I’m honestly shocked that he remembered all those moments in such detail, even correcting my versions of events. “So,” I say, clearing my throat, “why are you up? Couldn’t sleep either?”

“No.”

“Then what’s keeping you awake?”

Hayden takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his gaze burning into mine. The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

I’m not seriously worried about Hayden having a drinking problem—I would have noticed signs by now, and Ford or Gabriel would have intervened. But I am concerned about him being up like this, especially during the holidays. I don’t know anything about his family or his past, but I know the holiday season can be brutal for people carrying certain kinds of pain.

Hayden hesitates, and I see something flicker in his gray eyes—something I’ve seen before but never been able to identify. After a moment, I realize where I’ve seen that look before, when he’s interrupting my dates or getting territorial about something he has no business being territorial about.

“What did that server say to you tonight that had you so chatty and smiling?” Hayden asks suddenly.

“What?” The question catches me off guard. “Why would you even ask about that? It was nothing.”

Hayden shakes his head. “It wasn’t nothing.”

I frown and glance at the whiskey in his hand. Maybe he’s more affected by the alcohol than I thought. “Is that seriously what’s keeping you awake tonight? A conversation with a server?”

“Maybe.” Hayden shrugs, but there’s something dangerous in his casual tone. “Or maybe I’m up drinking because I don’t like the idea of you being in Ford’s bed instead of mine.”

My jaw drops open, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

19

HAYDEN

The look of shock on Maeve’s face, her gorgeous green eyes going wide as her plush lips fall open in a perfect little gasp, gives me a savage rush of satisfaction that I probably shouldn’t enjoy as much as I do.