Meghan's P.O.V.
I let out a disbelieving laugh, feeling my stomach flip at the thought of a whole Christmas Eve alone with Blade Miller.
“I think that should be my line. You’re stuck in my house, remember?”
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
“True. Your house, your rules. But,” he said, grinning with that boyish charm of his that made my knees weak,
“if we’re stranded, we might as well make the best of it.”
I crossed my arms, trying to seem annoyed but feeling the corners of my mouth tilt up anyway.
“And by that, you mean…?”
He pointed toward her kitchen, eyebrows raised.
“I mean, let’s see what you’ve got in that kitchen of yours. I figure if we’re stuck here for the night, we might as well do Christmas Eve the right way. And,” he added, flashing me a mischievous smile,
