Page 43 of A Very Bossy Christmas

She scoffs. “You’re wearing regular pants.”

“These are one size up, can’t you tell? I’m wearing a belt, which I will be loosening throughout the day. Put on a stretchy dress or something.”

“I don’t want to wear a dress if everyone else is casual.”

This is such a relationship-y conversation, and it’s making me really happy again. “Okay. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I give her hips a little squeeze before going back over to the bed to finish getting ready.

“Advice noted, thanks. I ordered a cab to pick us up in an hour. You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”

“No. Did you?”

“Yeah. I ordered room service. Is that okay?”

“You could have ordered it in here. With me.”

She twists her lips to the side. “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”

“As opposed to what we did last night?” I raise my eyebrows at her and then waggle them.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t recall a discussion or detailed written description of the extent of this discreet, temporary simulated consensual romantic relationship.”

I put my jacket on and cross my arms in front of my chest too. “Let’s negotiate right now. Shared meals in private—in bed or out of it—are on the table.”

“Agreed. Private serenading of Christmas carols—on the table.”

“Enh. I’ve heard you sing, and I’m going to have to pass.”

“Screw you.”

“Absolutely. On the table… Under the table…”

Eye roll. “Naked dance parties—on the table.”

“Agreed.”

“Christmas presents are off the table.”

“Unacceptable.”

“It’s too much pressure. There will be no exchanging of Christmas gifts.”

“Fine.”

“Sleepovers are off the table.”

“Disagree. Convince me otherwise.”

She starts to say something and then snaps her mouth shut. Her eyes are a little watery, and she looks so vulnerable again. And I’m falling for her again, just a little.

“I just don’t think we should, Declan. You know why.”

I do. I know why, and I want her in my bed all night anyway. But I don’t want her to feel vulnerable. “Yeah. Agreed.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, and it may be disappointment. But she nods once and sighs. “Great. Guess that covers everything, right? Probably not necessary to mention, however—butt stuff—off the table.”

I hold a hand up to protest.

“Let’s just get through Christmas Eve dinner and revisit this later.”