New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
An opposites attract, nerd heroine, small town rom com!
Chase Dawson can’t get Bailey Wilcox out of his head. In spite of the clumsiest almost-kiss of his life. A brainy, awkward conservationist is really not his type, but for some reason, this rich playboy can’t wait to catch this one under the mistletoe.
Chase is back in Louisiana for this fun, sexy Christmas story from the bayou!
“Mitch said to drag Chase’s ass out of bed for help with Bailey.”
They were right outside his door. Chase fastened his pants, grabbed a T-shirt from his open suitcase, and reached for the knob. “I suppose y’all think you’re whispering?” he asked them, as he pulled the Georgetown University School of Medicine T-shirt on.
“Whispering?” Owen asked with a grin. “What’s that?”
Exactly. These people had no idea how to whisper. Not that they ever had much need. They all liked to be heard and everyone seemed to always have a lot to say and they all knew each other’s secrets anyway. Whispering wasn’t much use around here.
“I am not going down to help stall Bailey,” Chase told them.
“Mitch said you were the best man for the job,” Josh said. His grin said that Mitch had told them more about Chase and Bailey than that.
“Not true,” Chase said. “She thinks I’m a dumbass. And, frankly, when I’m around her it seems that’s true.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not too proud to admit that. But I am too proud to have a repeat performance.”
“We don’t need you to dazzle her with your wit and intellect. Or even seduce her,” Owen said with a grin. “I mean, if you’re not up for any of that.”
Chase wanted to flip him off. But the truth was, he’d put his foot in his mouth more than once and she’d ducked his attempt to kiss her so…yeah, he might not be up for any of that.
“We do need you to distract her though,” Josh said. “For like an hour. Do you think you can keep her busy for an hour?”
One of them would possibly end up with a black eye. But Chase had to admit that the idea of seeing Bailey again had his gut tightening. He’d thought about her in the months since he’d stepped on her foot twice and she’d raked him with her nails. He still had no idea why the woman wouldn’t leave his thoughts, but hell, if she was just down the road, it wouldn’t hurt to see her, would it?
Actually, that was bad phrasing. It really could hurt. If not physically, then certainly his ego.
Still, he said, “How about forty-five minutes?”