“I can make us something,” he says.
“Nope, I’m cooking,” I whisper back. “I am your servant, right?”
He laughs. “You know I was kidding. I just wanted into your panties.”
I grin. “Still, I want to cook.”
He slaps my ass. “Okay, let me wash up and we’ll cook.” He goes into the bathroom and he speaks over the running tap. “You must be excited to see your Mom tonight.”
“I can’t wait. How about you? What’s Christmas like for you?” I once again almost ask him if he’d like to spend time at my place. But I don’t want to put the cart before the horse. We need to have an honest and open conversation before I even let Mom know he exists, because there’s a chance this is all in my head.
He peeks his head out as he wipes his wet hands on a towel. “My family will be there. Grandmother, and cousins and some aunts and uncles. Pretty much the one and only time we’re all together.”
“You must be looking forward to that, and having all the family around the dining room table for Christmas dinner.” I used to dream about such things. Living in a fancy house, with a big family, all laughing around the table as we exchange stories. I guess it’s not really like it’s portrayed in the movies, and while it’s only Mom and me, we have the nicest time.
He gives a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, watching Mom and Dad pretend to like each other. It’s like dinner and a movie.”
I laugh at that as he comes from the room and put my hands on his chest to stop him. “Sit,” I tell him and point to his favorite comfy chair.
“I thought we were cooking.”
I hand him the remote. “I’m sure there’s some game on somewhere. You sit, and I’m bringing breakfast to you.”
He grabs my hand and tugs until my mouth is inches from his. “What are you up to, Maize Malone?”
I give him a quick peck. “You’ll find out.”
As he continues to eye me, I grin at him, and give a little finger wave as I exit his room and tug the door shut behind me. I might not have the money to get him a proper Christmas gift, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him something I know he likes. Besides, Christmas isn’t about the amount you spend, it’s about spending time and doing nice things for those you care about. That’s my look on it, anyway.
I hurry to the kitchen and get straight to work. I might not have been studying those times at the library, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been learning new things. I put all my focus into what I’m doing and less than thirty minutes later, I find a serving tray beside the fridge, and place our plates, and mugs of coffee on it, putting only sugar in Christian’s. I head back up to his room, and the sound of a football game on the TV reaches my ears.
Unable to open the door, I give it a couple taps with my foot and the next thing I know, Christian is standing on the other side of the door, his jaw slack when his gaze drops to the tray.
“What the hell?”
I laugh a little, giddy inside that I can surprise him like this.
“Can I come in?”
“What did you do?” he asks as I move past him and set the food down onto his small table, and put one plate where he sits, and one where I sit. Then I set our coffees down.
“I made us a late breakfast.”
He scratches his head, perplexed. “You made eggs benny?”
“I did.” I wave to his chair. “Sit down and dig in.”
He’s still a little shocked as he drops into the chair, picks up his fork, and takes his first bite. “Jesus,” he says around a mouthful of egg and hollandaise sauce. “This tastes just like the eggs benny at Juleps.”
“I know.”
“What did you do?” he asks again as he takes a sip of coffee and moans.
I push to my feet, lean across the table and plant a kiss on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Christian.”
“This is the best Christmas present ever. Even the coffee is perfect.”
I laugh at that. “I thought you might like it, and I have a confession.” His brow raises. “I borrowed a friend’s car and drove to Juleps. I had a nice conversation with your favorite server, and she got me this recipe. I’ve been practicing. That’s why you could never find me at the library. I was taking my mistakes to my Kaitlyn and my roommates. They’re kind of sick of eggs and hollandaise.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His smile is so sweet, and sincere it wraps around my heart and tugs tight. I am so damn crazy about this guy.
“You’re the best, Maize Malone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We both laugh and talk about our exams as we eat, and once the plates are cleared, Christian insists on doing up the dishes while I finish packing. I walk around the room, and note how many things I actually have here now. I flick through the TV stations and turn on a talk show as I gather a few of my clothes and toss them into my bag. I don’t need many, since I still have things at Mom’s. I grab my toiletries from the bathroom, and before I shove my laptop into my backpack, I open it and check my messages. A gasp catches in my throat when I see one from Dean Saunders. I sink down onto the bed, my heart jumping into my throat. I read the message once, and then again. The door opens and I can’t stop grinning when Christian walks in.
He comes toward me, his gaze going from my face to my laptop back
