My Favorite Holidate

by Lauren Blakely

This book is dedicated to anyone who ever wanted to bang under a Christmas tree.

She looks far prettier than is good for me, and this isn’t the first time I’ve thought that about my employee.

Romance and I aren’t vodka and tonic. We’re orange juice and toothpaste.

I check my reflection in the window. This suit does look sharp. I run a hand over the midnight blue jacket. I did pick it for a reason. This is my best suit, and I like to look nice. The fact that the meeting is with Fable has nothing to do with my selection. Fine. Maybe it has a little something to do with it. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Or hide. Just like I’ve been doing for the last year or so.

I’m a scent girl. If a man takes the time to smell good, it says he cares. It says he tries. It says he doesn’t take things for granted. He’ll make the effort.

“He’s a prick, and he never deserved you. Ever.” Well, sir. His outrage is kind of hot.

“You deserve to be treated with respect. With adoration. With real affection.”

My gorgeous designer, with waves of shiny auburn hair, a constellation of freckles across her nose, and honey-hazel eyes that radiate warmth and humor. Fable, who opened her heart to me and whose outrage couldn’t disguise the hurt I spotted underneath.

“Sugar plum?” I smile even wider, feeling a little fizzy. “That’s what Fable calls me. What can I say? The woman loves Christmas.”

“And I’d very much like your ex to see how a man should treat a woman.” Fable snorts. “Bonus points if you make him cry.”

“Looks like I just ordered myself a Christmas boyfriend,” she says, shimmying a little at the prospect of revenge. “I’ll take twenty-five days of this gift, thank you very much.”

It’s my wish to know how Wilder Blaine treats a woman.

“Because I like snow. It’s soft, it’s quiet, it’s peaceful. Snow makes everything beautiful. You can have the busiest day, a million things going on, but when the snow falls, it calms the whole world down.”

Fable: I hope I’m as good a fake girlfriend as you are a fake boyfriend. Wilder: You’re wonderful, Fable.

Wilder: You seem like the type who can always have fun. Fable: Do you ever have fun? Wilder: I’m having fun right now.

Maybe it was actually that he enjoyed watching me…have fun.

Someone could even list it on a pill bottle—side effects of fake dating may vary and include, but are not limited to, swoons, stomach flips, and naughty thoughts. You may want to talk to your pharmacist about what to expect and watch out for. If symptoms persist, see your love doctor.

“Do you like shopping, Wilder?” He’s quiet for a moment, like he’s weighing what to say. “For you, I do.”

“I’d better behave in the office.” A smile shifts his lips. “Yes, or Santa will put you on the naughty list.” “Pretty sure I could find my own way there.” His eyes darken, and he grits out, “I have no doubt.”

“I’d like to say I knew the dress would look this beautiful on you, but you have continued to stun me. The dress doesn’t make the woman. The woman makes the dress,”

“Wilder Blaine. Someday you’re going to fall head over heels for a woman and I’m going to write a song about the unbreakable man breaking.”

“I like knowing you.” And it’s like my chest is expanding, making room for the way my heart is growing for her.

Trouble is I’m going to need some kind of distance from my fake girlfriend in Evergreen Falls or else I’ll fall entirely in love with her before Christmas.

She’s so infuriatingly headstrong. Like a goddess whipping up a storm.

Because you’re spectacular. Because I can’t stop thinking about the way your lips brushed my damn cheek out there in the living room and how much it excited me—a kiss on my fucking cheek. Because if a cheek kiss fires me up that much, what will I feel if I have you again? And I want you so fucking much. Because you’re fighting with me, and no one fights with me. Because I want to push you away and pull you close at the same time.

She’s my kryptonite.

“If you were mine, you’d be with me every night. If you were mine, I’d tell you how much I want you to stay over.”

“You’re human, and I like it.” My pulse speeds up, and this time it’s not from nerves. “Yeah?” “I do. You can run a football team. You can launch a fantastic hotel. You can speak Mandarin, and you can give me screaming orgasms. It’s okay if you can’t hit a single note.”

My chest tightens, and a new emotion crawls up my throat. Something different—something not quite familiar. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt. I think…I’m fucking in love with her.

“This,” he begins in a smoky drawl as he regards me, “this is what I asked Santa for.” A shudder runs down my body. “Me naked on a sleigh bed?” “Yes. Because I want to unwrap you like the fucking gift you are.”

Every time I’m with Fable, I fail miserably to get over her. I fail horribly at moving on. I fail awfully at forgetting how much I adore her. And I don’t know what to do with failure.

“Because he doesn’t like cats. He said so at the shower when he ran into Penguin in the hallway after he used the bathroom.” Wilder scoffs. “That settles it. Reason enough to beat him.” “I don’t trust people who don’t like animals,” Mac adds, crossing her arms. “One hundred percent reasonable approach to life,”

“I meant everything I said last night right here in this bed. I have wanted you for so long. For more than a year. You’ve been front and center in my mind. I’ve been thinking of you, and craving you, and wanting you. You’ve been like a dream I didn’t think I could ever catch.”

“I feel it,” she adds in a bare whisper. My brave woman takes the first step. I cup her cheek, look her in the eyes, and say, “There’s nothing fake about us.”

We are all snowflakes, I suppose. No two are alike.

“I’m fine, Dad. I swear. It was just a moment when I wasn’t tough like you,” she reassures me as she yawns and heads into her bedroom. My gut sinks. “Have I taught you to be tough all the time?” I ask, my voice wooden. She shrugs. “Well, you’re the toughest person I know. Nothing hurts you.” Ouch.

It’s not that I don’t trust Fable. I don’t trust myself with her heart. Because trust is as real as Santa Claus.

“Fine. You’re right. I fell in love with him.” They erupt into cheers. I roll my eyes. “Stop, stop.” “The first step is saying it,” Josie goads. “The second step is doing something about it,” Everly adds. “The third step is banging,” Maeve finishes.

“You think you can’t trust love, but really, all you need is to trust yourself and believe you can handle love.”

But I suppose that’s part of loving an addict—worry is never truly far away.

“I love you so much. You are extraordinary, and I want to love you that way too. I want you to be mine for real, for today, for tomorrow, for New Year’s Eve, for all the days.”

“Real love, big love, true love. The kind that lasts well beyond all this holiday magic.” He gathers me even closer in his arms. “Good. Because that’s what you’re getting with me. You’re getting this year round.”

“You’re my favorite holidate.” “I’ll be your favorite date every day of the year.”