talking about," I grumble as I attack the image of a Christmas wreath cut from a magazine with a glue stick. "No idea. There will be no Dickmas with Nick, I assure you."
"You should mass-produce these." This from Noel. "I bet there's a huge market for Countdown-to-Dickmas calendars."
"They'd make amazing presents for my friends!" Ginger agrees with more enthusiasm than is necessary. She's going to support Noel in teasing me like it's her job as youngest sister.
"There's no countdown to Dickmas! That is not a thing. Nobody wants that to be a thing. And the last person in the world that would be a thing with is Nick Saint-Croix."
"Holly," Ginger chastises. "Where is your seasonal spirit? Is there no room at the Vagina Inn for Nick?"
"Oh, my God, you did not just say that." I shove chocolates behind the new doors and start to gather my things.
"I did!" Ginger laughs. "I'm pretty proud of myself too. That was a good one." She plops into a chair at the table, folding one leg up and resting her head on her knee while she watches me pack up.
"You're both the worst but I love you anyway. I've got to get home and pack. For my business trip," I add pointedly before either one of them can add a lewd comment about wrapping Nick's package or something equally ridiculous. "Try to behave yourselves while I'm gone."
"Have fun!"
"I won't."
Chapter 5
Nick picked me up so we could carpool to the airport. To be fair, it's a ninety-minute drive to Detroit Metro. To be unfair, it's another ninety minutes I have to spend with Nick.
And unlike my sisters, I'm not delusional enough to think we're carpooling because he secretly harbors a desire to spend time with me.
"Don't even think about missing the flight, Miss Winter," is how he wooed me into this carpool on his way out of the office on Friday. Then he stopped, four feet from my desk, and doubled back. "On second thought, I think it would be best we ride together. I'll pick you up on my way to the airport."
Then he grinned, told me to have a nice weekend and strolled out of the office before I could protest or ask if he had my address.
He picked me up ten minutes ago.
It’s already the longest ten minutes of my life. And we still have ninety long miles to go.
The conversation thus far has been lacking—as in Nick seems content to enjoy the deafening silence while I play out possible topics of conversation in my head.
Nick's posture is relaxed in the driver’s seat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the armrest between us. Every so often he drums his fingers against the steering wheel or shifts his hand, totally at ease.
Meanwhile I've got the nervous energy of an elf who overindulged in candy canes.
More silence.
I'm starting to wonder if he even remembers I'm in the car.
"We could play some Christmas music," I finally suggest. Anything to break up the silence that is providing my brain with too much idle time. Too much idle time in the presence of Nick and my heart rate speeds up because I'm thinking about things I have no business thinking about. Things like what Nick would feel like in the Vagina Inn. "I've got a playlist on my phone."
Nick side-eyes me from the driver’s seat and I can see the hint of a smile on his face before he shakes his head with a low exhale of a laugh. "I'll pass."
Right. Of course not. I tap my fingers nervously against my thigh. Luckily I've prepared an entire list of business topics we can discuss this week. I'm reaching into the handbag at my feet when Nick speaks again.
"Just out of curiosity, how early in the year do you start listening to your Christmas playlist?" He takes his eyes off the interstate for a brief second, his eyes flashing with something that might be amusement as he glances in my direction. "Day after Thanksgiving? December first? July?"
"Ha ha." I leave the notebook in my bag, realizing the list I prepared isn't anywhere near long enough. I'll need to ration it.
"Are you up to speed on the agenda for the trip?"
"Of course." I reach again for my bag, already rattling off the schedule from memory but wanting the itinerary in front of me all the same. We're taking a late-afternoon flight from Detroit to Frankfurt with a crack-of-dawn connecting flight to Nuremberg. Along with