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“I got you a toy mouse,” he corrected.

She poked her tongue out at him and tore open the next gift. Then beamed at him as she drew the white socks, emblazoned with red and white candy canes, to her face. “You got Jack a pair of fluffy Christmas tree socks.”

“I got you a pair of socks that matched.”

She ignored his grumpy tone, because now she knew there was no bite to him. Beneath the tough exterior, he was a squishy marshmallow. “Thank you, I love them.”

His eyes met hers. “You do?”

“I do,” she confirmed.

His satisfied smile told her he’d been far more worried about his gift than he’d let on.

And as she handed him her gift, the loud thump of her heart told her she was also worried how he would receive hers.

Where she’d ripped his gift open, she took a photo of Luke carefully unwrapping his, like it was precious, like he’d never received anything like it before. Long fingers peeled off the silver bow and opened the gold foil wrapping to reveal a box. He glanced up at her and she knew he’d seen the name of the Christmas decoration store. A mix of emotions crossed his face as he lifted off the lid. Surprise, sadness . . . oh God, she’d screwed up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I figured it was a way to remember your mom, but it was stupid. You probably don’t want—”

“Thank you.” She watched as he gave a deep swallow. “It’s very thoughtful.” His eyes lifted to hers and she saw his sincerity. “I will treasure them.” He pulled out the two ornaments, one depicting a yellow cab against the New York skyline, one, which had been much harder to find, with a red double decker bus against the image of Big Ben. “Not just a memory of Mum, but a memory of this time we had together. A memory of you.”

Her heart cartwheeled, and if she’d only thought she was falling in love before, now she knew she’d dived into it, head first.

* * *

Sitting outside on an open-top double decker bus when it was zero degrees, with a blanket on his lap that screamed old man, surrounded by kids and their parents wearing Christmas hats, and grown adults in elf costumes, was not a place Luke had ever imagined himself.

If he had, he definitely wouldn’t have been enjoying himself.

But here he was, unable to stop smiling as he snapped off photos of Anna singing along to the Christmas carols with gusto, when anyone else who had a voice like hers would surely keep it to themselves.

“You realize we’re the only ones on here without kids,” he pointed out as he looked around him.

“You’re the one who booked the early bus.”

“There wasn’t a lot of choice,” he defended.

She winked. “I wonder if they’ll let me sit on Santa’s knee?”

He gave her a dark look. “The only knee you’ll be sitting on is mine.”

Her cheeks pinked as she laughed. “Promises, promises.”

He shouldn’t be flirting with her, he reminded himself. He’d pulled them away from that path and onto the safe, friends path. The path where he could receive a thoughtful, beautifully wrapped gift and not think maybe, just maybe, she liked him enough to forget about giving him a wide berth. The path where he wouldn’t end up hurting her and he could continue to see her occasionally when he made the trip from North Carolina. And she wasn’t working. And didn’t have other plans.

His body bowed, sadness weighing down his shoulders. How often would that be?

She shifted and her thigh pressed against his, warm and, beneath the blanket, somehow intimate.

Screw the safe path. What was stopping him from going back tonight and kissing the hell out of her? She’d heard his most shameful secret and not called him a selfish sonofabitch. In fact, she’d looked at him with affection, and, as she had just now, with heat.

She’d said they should let whatever happened while they were doing this advent . . . happen, hadn’t she?

His dick surged behind his zipper. Fuck, he really, really wanted something to happen.

“Look, it’s the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.” She pointed excitedly to the admittedly impressive spruce, lit up by so many multi-colored LED lights it could probably be seen from space. “Isn’t it stunning?” How could she call a tree stunning? Hadn’t she seen herself in the mirror? “Luke?” When he didn’t respond, she turned to him. “Why aren’t you looking at it?”

“Because I’d rather look at you.”

Her eyes went from bright sapphire, to smoky blue. “You could have looked at me back at the condo,” she said softly. “You didn’t need to get me on a bus.”