Holiday Ever After: A Second Chance Holiday Romance by J.D. Hollyfield

Author:J.D. Hollyfield [Hollyfield, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-11T18:30:00+00:00

No. No. No.

I toss another shirt over my shoulder. Why did I not bring anything cute to wear! I tear off the turtleneck and dig back into my pile of failed outfits. Something in here has to say date outfit. Not that it’s a date. He did technically ask you out. But did he mean a date? I haven’t been on a date since… well, forever. Gah! “What does one wear on a freakin’ date nowadays?”

“Honey, who are you talking to?”

I turn to my closed door. “No one, Mom. Sorry!”

Okay. Pull it together. Keep it simple. Leggings. Off-the-shoulder sweater. Easy to take off—no! Full sweater. Jeans. Show no skin. This is not a hookup. We’re friends. Going out and having a nice time. That hopefully leads to more hot sex—

“Shit!”

Sex just makes things complicated. Not that it isn’t already. We’re the walking definition of complicated. A tangled mess of what the hell are we doing. Torturing each other, for one. This won’t end well for either of us. Even the sirens are going off in my head. Abort. Abort. No, like, seriously. . .

I look around and dig under a pile of discarded clothes, finding my phone ringing. No sirens. Phew. I’m not completely crazy. Eileen’s goofy face fills my screen.

“Hey, you.”

“She’s alive!”

I hold my phone between my ear and shoulder while I shimmy into a pair of jeans. “Barely. Hey, what does someone wear on a non-date date?”

“Uh, since when are you dating?”

“I’m not. Well… not really.” I pair my jeans with a fluffy white sweater.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to elaborate on that. You left here looking like a kid who lost her favorite stuffed animal and wearing a powdered donut mustache.” Ugh… probably why these jeans are so tight. “Wait… don’t tell me you ran into the one who got away.”

More like collied with and slipped, spreading my legs. “Something like that.”

“No way. Tell me everything!”

I stand in front of my mirror, twisting and turning. It’s not my best, but it’s not my worst. It’ll have to do. Sighing into the phone, I say, “I don’t even know where to start. I told myself I wouldn’t search him out. If I ran into him, so be it. That door was closed, and there was no way I was opening it. Then that door opened, literally, and things have been insane ever since.” I tug at my sweater. Maybe I should go with the off-the-shoulder—

“Girl, you sound love-struck.”

“Ew, I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. You’ve sighed more times on this call than I’ve ever heard.”

Great, not only am I love-struck, I’m turning into my sighing mother. “It’s complicated. He’s… this force of nature, and I’m a poor, helpless little leaf who doesn’t stand a chance of not getting swept away. He’s different and the same. And, well, he’s really hot and great in bed, and I’m just digging myself a hole because I don’t know what I’m doing!” She’s silent for a beat, and I check to see if our call got disconnected.

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