Page 3 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

An instrumental version of Jingle Bells plays in the background. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not to me.” Her arms cross over her chest which just serves in squeezing her already fantastic tits further together. Damn, she’s cute when she’s pissed.

I chuckle. “Since when?”

“Since forever.” Her words come out in a hiss. “You don’t like me. You’re not nice to me.”

“Gingerbread, we haven’t seen each other in years.”

She closes her eyes. “Ugh, that nickname.”

“Here let’s do this right.” I hold out my hand to her. “Brock Daniels, nice to meet you.”

Again she watches me through narrowed eyes, but finally she extends her hand.

The moment our palms touch I swear some sort of electrical surge pumps through the room. But none of the lights flicker. She clearly feels it too, though, because she quickly pulls her hand back.

“We used to be friends, yeah?” I ask.

“When we were little kids.”

“You were my favorite person to run around with outside.” I smile at her again. “You look good, Ginger. Really good.” I let myself take in her curves, and my eyes get caught on the sexy as fuck cleavage she’s showing.

“Until you decided I wasn’t cool enough for you.”

I sigh. She’s not entirely wrong, but I guess I’d hoped we could just forget about high school and it’s stupid teenage politics.

I nod to the empty glass she set next to her discarded phone, on side table behind her. “Where can I get one of those?”

“This way.” She spins and walks out of the room.

And I follow because damn if that dress isn’t doing amazing things for her body. Which frankly doesn’t make sense because the bow-encrusted monstrosity is ugly as hell. Looks like Christmas threw up all over her skirt. But it still hugs her just right, accentuating her narrow waist and hips that I could really grab onto.

She brings me into the kitchen where I find a sizable display of food and drinks. But she waits, standing in the entryway.

“You should be able to find whatever you want in here.”

I look down at her and take in her face. She’s really pretty.

“None of your crowd will be here tonight.” She tugs on one of her curls and I find myself longing to do the same. “Your mom said you hadn’t seen anyone yet.”

“I wouldn’t call them my crowd. Just people I hung with in high school.” People I let dictate who I was because I was too chicken shit to stand up to them and be myself. I admit, I got wrapped up in the whole popular stuff. I played football and dated the head cheerleader and we were Homecoming King and Queen three years running. That seems like a lifetime ago and I don’t think about those people anymore. Ever. But Ginger…

She tilts her head back, and gasps, and I follow her gaze.

Mistletoe. “I’m right where I want to be with who I want to talk to.” I smile down at her and lean in for a kiss. But at the last minute she turns her head and my lips press into her cheek.

I chuckle and she squeezes past me to leave the room.

She evaded that kiss, but I know one thing for sure. I’m not done with Ginger Starr.

chapter three

Ginger

The first thing I realize when I wake up is that I overslept and it’s because I don’t have my phone. I search my bed and the nightstand, but there’s no sign of it. The clock across the room lets me know that it’s already ten-thirty. I never sleep this late.

I probably slept in because I was awake half the night replaying my interaction with Brock. Why was he being so nice to me? And why was he looking at me like I was a delectable piece of dessert he was dying to try?