“Yep,” he said, and she heard rustling, a clink of a buckle, like he was getting dressed. “Payback’s a bitch.” Another beat or two passed before he said, “I’m decent now.”

Relief lulled Suzanne into a false sense of security, and she turned to find he’d pulled on a pair of jeans—that was it. Nobody in their right mind would have called Grady “decent” right now. From his belt flapping open to the top button of his fly still gaping, he was thoroughly indecent.

“You’re seriously wearing that sweater?”

Suzanne, who had forgotten the very reason for entering his room in the first place, glanced down at her sweater uncomprehendingly for a moment because hell, at least she was dressed.

It was one of the handful of terrible Christmas sweaters she’d bought in Denver. It was black with a large elf body on the front. The elf was female, in a red dress with a green belt, green shoes, and stripy red-and-green stockings. There was no face—in fact, the neckline of the elf’s dress melded with the neckline of the sweater, which made Suzanne’s head the head of the elf.

It was awful and absolutely perfect for the hokiest Christmas ever, and she’d bought it without thinking twice. She’d also bought a matching male elf for Grady, which was why she was standing in his room. His bedroom.

“Yes,” she confirmed, grateful for the prompt but distracted again as she looked at him. There was a hardness to Grady’s physique that a man didn’t get from pumping iron. There were slabs of muscle beneath the flesh of his pecs and abs, rather than that pillowed delineation so popular on Instagram these days.

“Is there something you wanted?” The movement of his mouth dragged her gaze to the light whiskery growth around his lips, along his jaw, and halfway down his neck. “Or did you just want to indiscriminately ogle me?”

Oh crap. Busted. Suzanne averted her gaze as she gave herself a mental shake. He was right. What in the hell was she doing? Standing there staring at him with her tongue practically hanging out like Scooby-goddamn-Doo.

“Oh yes…sorry.” Her brain kicked into gear. The sweater. In her hand. The one she’d bought for Grady. “Could you wear this tonight?” Holding it by the shoulder seams, she flapped it out so he could see. This elf was wearing a green shirt and shorts with a red belt, red shoes, and red-and-green stripy socks.

Grady stared at it like it was something he’d worn in on his boot. He shook his head. “Oh hell no.”

Suzanne’s fingers tightened around the synthetic woolen fabric. She’d expected resistance. “Big fat Christmas Christmas, remember?” she reminded him, jiggling it a little.

“It’s fucking awful.”

“Yeah.” Suzanne bugged her eyes at him. “That’s the point.”