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That is not tinsel. That is not an ornament.

That is a candy cane straining against his trousers. A very big, very hard candy cane.

I nearly fall off the stool. Miles catches me, obviously, because catching me while I malfunction is apparently his full-time job now.

I slap the star onto his hat with shaking hands and return to my own two feet.

"Done!" I announce to the room, my voice an octave too high. "He's decorated! Very festive! Extremely tree-like!"

Celeste rings the bell as Miles smirks at me, glittering from chest to thigh, hard beneath his apron, and I decide the judges can give this round to literally anyone else because I've already lost something far more important.

My fucking senses.

"Round two!" Big Mike announces. "The blindfolded gift-wrapping relay! One partner locates the supplies blindfolded. The other may only give verbal instructions. No touching!"

"No touching," I repeat, tying the red silk blindfold over my eyes. "Finally, a rule designed to protect me."

"You volunteered to go blind awfully fast," Miles says from somewhere to my left as the whistle blows. Miles starts directing. "Okay, three steps forward. Table's ahead. Ribbon's at two o'clock."

"I'm a woman. I don't navigate by clock."

"Right side. Your right. No—your right, Audrey!"

"This IS my right!"

"That's the powdered sugar!"

My hand plunges into something soft and cold, and nearby, someone from the media laughs.

I retreat, find the ribbon spool, and immediately become entangled in it like a kitten with a grudge. It wraps around my wrist, then my elbow, then somehow my neck.

"How," Miles says, and I can hear him fighting laughter, "have you tied yourself up?"

"Maybe because your directions are garbage!"

"The ribbon is in your left hand. Grab the scissors ahead. Just walk forward."

I clamp one end of the ribbon between my teeth to free a hand and shuffle forward, arms out, and that's when I walk directly into six-foot-three of smug hockey player.

My blindfold slips as we wobble on the spot.

I look up at Miles Stratton and notice his hands are full of my ass again, holding me tight. I would like to state for the record that I do not hate it. I do not hate it at all.

Somewhere below my waist, my body has launched fireworks.

Neither of us moves nearly fast enough.

"You were supposed to give me directions," I manage.

His pupils have eaten most of the blue. "I walked where you were supposed to be."

From the neighboring station, Aidan's voice booms across the ballroom. "Do you two need ten minutes alone with the wrapping paper?"

"I can build a privacy screen out of gift boxes!" Nate offers, already stacking them. "Very discreet! Very private!"

"We're FINE," I shout, yanking my blindfold back up while Miles removes his hands from my ass.

We finish the round in chaos.