When Chance McKenzie signed up for a series of blind dates over Christmas, he wasn’t expecting much. His best friend Clara had talked him into it. ‘Maybe this is Chance’s chance for love!’ she’d said. Clara always enjoyed fitting his name into a pun. She was also the only person who could convince him to take part in something like this.

Twelve Dates of Christmas was the holiday special a dating agency was hosting. ‘Twelve days to find the man of your dreams!’ it advertised. ‘Everyone deserves a Christmas miracle. This time it could be you!’

Chance doubted the ‘man of his dreams’ would be at cliché events fidgeting awkwardly with his napkin or oozing sleezy charm all over the tablecloth. But Chance could always find a silver lining. The dates might fail spectacularly, but at least he’d get a funny story out of it.

The first date had been just as bad as Chance had predicted. Diego thought he was God’s gift to men. He’d boasted about the dozens of people he’d taken to bed and winked so often that Chance had asked him if he had something in his eye.

It wasn’t a good start, and Chance still had eleven men to go.

The idea behind Twelve Dates of Christmas was that you picked your favorite man at the end of the twelve days of dates. If you selected each other, the company gave you a free meal at a restaurant, along with each other’s phone number, so you could see where your dating took you.

Chance could eliminate Diego from his list. He didn’t have high hopes for his second date either. The man was already five minutes late.

He checked his phone for the third time before scanning the restaurant, wondering if the guy would appear. It was a different restaurant from the previous night. The interior was decorated with Christmas lights and wreaths along the walls. There was a small centerpiece of holly and pinecones on each table and the waitresses wore Christmas earrings.

There was still no sign of his date.

If he isn’t here in five minutes, I’m leaving.

The agency would get one more go, then if his third date was another waste of time, Chance was asking for his money back.

Opening up a message to Clara, he started to type a complaint when someone approached the table. Chance glanced up, expecting the waitress. His breath caught to find a man in a navy jumper, dark jeans and a long winter coat. Black hair, chocolate eyes, olive skin… What perfection is this?

“You waiting on a date?” he asked.

I would certainly wait for you.

Chance swallowed down the words. He kept his expression neutral and used the Christmas code to confirm that the man was his date. It was ridiculous but it was part of the agency’s rules.

“What day of Christmas is it?”

“The second.” The man grinned before holding out his hand. “Name’s Angel.”

“Angel?” Chance repeated while taking the offering. Angel had a firm grip and smooth skin.

“Mom said I was born with the face of an angel.” He took a seat opposite Chance. “But it’s what’s inside that counts, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Chance agreed.

But if the personality is half as beautiful as his face, I don’t need to try ten more men. I’m already sold.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Chance,” he admitted. “Chance McKenzie.”

Angel grinned. “Chance, huh? Guess we’re both in the ‘weird name’ club.”

Chance pursed his lips. Should I be insulted? Kids had teased him growing up and he didn’t appreciate jokes from his dates—although he didn’t know Angel well. Maybe he means it as solidarity?

“I guess we are,” Chance said, deciding to let the remark slide. He lifted the drinks’ menu and changed the subject. “I haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Angel said, flashing a charming smile. “Twelve Days of Dates expects a lot from me if they want me to be on time for two weeks.”

“Twelve Dates of Christmas,” Chance corrected, feeling a little put out that Angel didn’t bother to remember the correct name. “And I would think you’d want to make a good impression on your dates?”

“Oh, I do, but why change a lifetime of habit?”

“To impress them?” Chance suggested.

“More like disappoint. Why put in more effort than they’d get on date five or eight?” he asked. “I’ll start with my faults, and we can work our way forward.” He shrugged and picked up his menu. “I’ve never been one for doing things the usual way.”

His blunt honesty and uncaring manner intrigued Chance. He’d never met someone who threw away social decorum on a first date.

“You don’t care about social etiquette, do you?”

Angel glanced up from the menu. “Some parts I do.”

“Such as?”

“I’ll pour you a glass of water whenever I pour mine.”

Chance snorted. “A true act of politeness.”

“You mock,” Angel said, gesturing lightly with the menu. “But if I didn’t do it, you’d think I was rude. You’d remember me for ignoring your glass all night and never forget it. Five minutes late? You’ll dismiss it if I’m charming. But missing the water all night? That will be under your skin like a splinter.”

He’s actually right. Chance had experienced that in the past on dates, and it had annoyed him to no end. If Angel kept to his word and proved enticing, it would more than make up for his initial tardiness.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Chance said, feeling amused.

“See?” Angel grinned. “I know how to act where it counts.”

Chance smiled back. “Then I better not run out of water.”

Angel’s grin widened and he put down the menu. Angel grabbed the glass water bottle from the center of the table. He slid his fingers up the neck and Chance’s breath caught. The man’s motions were sinuous and flirtatious. Angel stretched his left arm over the table to grasp Chance’s glass. While their fingers didn’t brush, Chance’s hair stood on end. If he moved a few inches, Angel could stroke his wrist. Angel flicked the lid off the bottle and the sound seemed loud in the busy restaurant. Chance swallowed as Angel started pouring the water. The relaxed air between them shifted to something that crackled with tension. His gaze stayed locked on Chance’s until the last moment when he shifted his attention to Chance’s glass, making sure it wouldn’t overflow. He let it go after giving the bottle a lingering stroke of his fingers.

“Now you have water,” Angel said.

“Thanks.” Chance didn’t know how the man had made the act erotic, but his mouth was dry. He took a drink, hoping the chill of the water would cool his heated skin. They’d only been talking for a few minutes. He needed to calm down.

Angel filled his own glass and Chance searched for a change of topic.

“So, what made you go on these dates?”

Angel shrugged and leaned back against his chair. He wrapped an arm around the backrest. It put him in a slouched position that would look uncomfortable and ridiculous on anyone else. Angel made it attractive.

“To find love or lust.” He smirked. “Or just have a good time.”

Chance felt a flush of warmth, but he refused to act like a hormonal teenager on his first date.

“You might have come to the wrong place for that,” Chance replied, thinking briefly of Diego.

He doubted anyone could find love or have a good time with him.

“Your first date not up to scratch?” Angel asked, unknowingly mirroring Chance’s thoughts.

“I could be talking about the second date too.”

“Nah,” Angel said, sounding unconcerned. “I can already tell you find me charming.”

Chance tried not to smile. Arrogance had never been a turn-on for him, but Angel wore his confidence differently. He wasn’t domineering, rude or self-congratulatory. He merely said what he thought and did what he pleased.

Chance was the opposite. He preferred to keep the peace and avoid confrontation, both in life and in relationships. Angel made him want to try something new, and, rather than confirm Angel’s appeal, he teased him instead.

“I think you have a high opinion of yourself,” Chance riposted.

Angel grinned, his gaze bright with entertainment.

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But it’s well-earned, I promise.”

He followed the words with a wink and Chance smiled. They’d only just met, but Angel was not just an improvement on Diego. He was a step up from all the men Chance had dated in the past year.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Chance said, trying to sound aloof.

The widening of Angel’s grin made Chance sure that the man saw right through him. It only intrigued and excited him even more.

“You’re a hard sell, Chance?” Angel asked, his eyes glinting with pleasure. “I like a challenge.”

“Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

It was more daring than he’d normally be, especially on a first date. Yet, his response seemed to spark something to life within Angel. He shifted from his slouch to lean his forearms against the table. A sharp focus had replaced Angel’s relaxed sprawl.

“Are you going to make it worth my while, Chance McKenzie?”

“Are you?” Chance countered.

“I’ll make it a heavenly experience,” Angel promised.

The line should have been cheesy and Chance should have rolled his eyes, but instead, his mind flooded with tantalizing images of what they could do together. Angel’s seductive tone, gorgeous face and tempting insinuations were a lethal combination for any healthy libido to withstand.

Chance cleared his throat but still felt flustered.

He’d accepted these dates expecting to meet the lower end of the dating pool or people looking for a Hollywood romance. Angel didn’t fit either category. He was here for fun. He was looking for a ‘good time’ and offering a ‘heavenly experience’. Chance had thought the best he could gain were a few funny stories. Now it looked like he might have the opportunity for something else.

While the rules might specify going their separate ways after their date, Chance wasn’t going to throw away good fortune. He was single and on a dating service at Christmas. If he and Angel made a connection, he’d be a fool to let the man go.

Unfortunately, before Chance could try to start another conversation, their waitress arrived at the table. They quickly perused the menu and ordered drinks and a meal. When she left, Chance was preparing to speak, but Angel beat him to it.

“So, you mentioned your first date didn’t shape up. What happened?”

Chance frowned. “Why would you care about that?”

“Can’t blame a guy for sizing up the competition.”

“Trust me… There is no competition so far.”

Angel looked interested. “Why such a low rating?”

Chance hesitated. He didn’t like to insult people behind their back. He joked with his friends, but not with a stranger, especially when Diego could find out by accident when Angel had him for a date.

“He wasn’t my type,” Chance answered vaguely. “Besides, shouldn’t you be asking about me?”

“I am,” Angel answered. “I’m working out what you like and dislike. I’m deciding if I should flirt harder or cut my losses. Are you enjoying my personality or are you counting the moments until dinner is over?”

The abrupt honesty remained startling, but Chance was becoming quicker to adapt.

“I’m not counting the moments yet. So far, I’m finding it fun.”

Angel grinned. “Then flirting harder it is.”

“Or stick to the same amount,” Chance insisted. “Don’t overdo it.”

“I think you’d like me to overdo it,” Angel countered. “Wouldn’t you like a man who’s unafraid to fight for your attention?”

The question sounded teasing, but Angel’s focus hinted at genuine curiosity. ‘I’m working out what you like and dislike.’ It almost felt like a test.

“You have my attention already,” Chance replied, choosing his words carefully. “And I don’t like someone who tries too hard.”

Angel’s next smile seemed warmer.

“You like honesty,” Angel said. “That works in my favor. I told you from the start I’d prefer to get the faults out of the way first.”

“And you think tardiness is your only flaw?” Chance asked.

“Of course not, but this is only the first date, Chance,” Angel teased. “Let’s go one at a time.”

Chance nearly quipped about a second date, but he stopped. That’s not part of the program. He might be thinking of seeing Angel again, but unless the man picked him at the end of the two weeks, there was no guarantee he’d see Angel after tonight.

They needed to do more than just flirt. He wanted to know more about him before the night was over.

“What do you do, Angel?”

“Events management,” Angel replied. Chance went to ask more, but Angel held up his hand. “Wait. Let’s cut through all that. We’ve got to do this twelve times. I’d rather speed it up. Angel Tompkins, thirty-two, never been married, don’t want kids, an only child and an Aquarius, if that makes any difference. Knew I was gay since the high school locker room.”

Chance blinked a few times as he processed the onslaught of information.

“Did you pick what I might want to know out of a hat?”

“Dating platform standard questions,” Angel answered.

He slouched against the chair again and Chance had the disappointing feeling that he’d lost some of Angel’s interest by his question.

“Most dating platforms don’t want to know when you realized you were gay.”

“Yeah,” Angel agreed, his gaze flicked to the left as their waitress approached, “but it usually comes up anyway.”

Chance used the distraction of their drinks to think about his response. It was clear that Angel wasn’t one for standard small talk. He disregarded social etiquette and jumped into the bizarre and personal. He was brutally honest and didn’t mince words. If he wanted to keep Angel’s attention, he’d have to respond with a similar disregard for first date politeness. He waited until the waitress left.

“Chance McKenzie,” he said. “First year of high school when I got a boy instead of a girl on spin the bottle.”

Angel’s gaze had wandered over the restaurant but it shot back to him with interest.

“Thirty-one,” Chance continued, “never married. I wouldn’t mind kids, but I’d be safer with a cat. Younger brother. I don’t care about star signs.” He paused but threw in a random fact to see what would happen. “I was obsessed with Peter Pan as a kid.”

Chance felt a burst of pride when Angel sat up in his seat and put his arms back on the table.

“Never wanted to grow up?” he asked.

“I didn’t care about growing up,” Chance answered. “I wanted to fly.”

Angel smiled. “Did you jump off the roof?”

“Luckily, I wasn’t that stupid.”

Angel laughed. “I would have been. I broke my arm skateboarding when I was younger because I was determined to do what the older kids did.”

“I broke three fingers when I punched a telephone pole.”

“Why?” Angel asked, looking amused.

“My first boyfriend broke up with me.”

Angel tilted his head to the right, seeming to size him up. “Prone to emotional outbursts?”

“As a hormonal teenager, yes.”

“As an adult?”

“I haven’t punched any telephone poles lately.”

Angel chuckled and took a sip of his drink. Chance kept watching him, interested to see what happened next.

“Eggnog or mulled wine?”

“Eggnog.”

“Agreed,” Angel said.

He raised his glass and Chance did the same.

“To the second date of Christmas,” Angel said. “It’s already better than the first.”

Does that make us turtle doves?

Their glasses clinked and Chance felt a foot brush against his own. It was only for a moment, but it sent a shiver of heat down his spine. He caught Angel’s gaze and knew it hadn’t been an accident. Angel kept watching him as he did it again. There was a question in Angel’s expression and Chance knew if he pulled away, Angel would back off.

But this was the most interesting man he’d met all year.

Chance pressed his foot back against Angel’s and delighted in the man’s pleased smile.

If Christmas is the time for giving, then I’m giving myself a well-deserved present by playing footsie with Angel Tompkins.