Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Ugh. Why didn’t I think on that more deeply before I said yes to his wild fake-dating scheme?
Because you wanted him too much to weigh up the consequences.
And I still do. Especially after the way he surprised me last night.
With those dark thoughts nagging at me, we head inside, where other teams are setting up at tables in the tavern. Best to put aside all this…anxiety. It won’t help me.
Time to dominate.
At our table, I reach into my canvas bag and hand out aprons to my teammates. I just had them made in town this week. They say Sugar Plum Ladies and have nutcracker designs on the front.
“You did not,” Eloise says, her jaw agape.
“I so did,” I say.
Aurora clutches hers to her chest. “Aprons are like diamonds. You can never have too many.”
Rowan swings by, eyeing the new gear. “You made team aprons?”
“Of course,” I say, squaring my shoulders as we take a few steps away from my teammates into a quiet corner of my station.
He gives me a knowing look. “Let’s see. I’m going to need to add to my five things list. I got three new things yesterday alone. You hang your scarves, you have candy cane undies, you like being tied up. Which leads me to this—I bet you also have an apron for every season. A Christmas apron, a Valentine’s Day apron, a Halloween apron…” His smile is so pleased as he waits for my confirmation.
“Of course I do,” I say, bubbly inside from the way he’s nailed everything. From how he pays attention. From the way he remembers and cares.
“And panties, right? Bet you’ve got white hearts on pink panties, witches on orange ones, and probably even a clover on some green panties for Saint Patrick’s Day.”
He’s scarily, very nearly right. “Close, but I don’t like Kelly green.”
“Then we should get you some mint green lucky panties.”
He’s saying we, and he’s talking about future holidays. I grip the table to hold on, since my knees go deliciously weak.
His smile grows bigger as he leans across our station, his face inches from mine, then whispers, “Sometime, I’d love to see you in an apron and nothing else.”
I tremble, but inside I think—when is that sometime? Tonight? Tomorrow? Because it won’t happen in the new year.
“Stop trying to sabotage me,” I say playfully, trying to wrest control of this moment.
“How am I sabotaging you?”
“By being all bet your panties are magically delicious,” I say, adopting an Irish accent, and, I hope, buzz-killing all this sexy tension.
He cracks up, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you just went Lucky Charms on me.” His laughter vanishes though. “But c’mon. I’d never try to sabotage you with a little distraction.”
Then, he does just that, reaching for my face, and planting a slow, sweet kiss on my lips in front of the whole damn competition.
It’s everything I never had with my ex.
And everything I’m learning I want.
I stand at attention behind Eloise and Aurora, with Mabel by my side as the judges make their way down each table, led by Mayor Bumblefritz.
Mabel reaches for my hand, squeezes it. “You’ve got this,” she says.
“Well, I hardly did anything. Aurora and Eloise did the hard work.”
“You picked the ingredients,” she points out. “You used your matchmaker skills.”
“True,” I admit. I suggested a bourbon and cocoa concoction with a dark chocolate base. The splash of bourbon should pair with it to create a slightly smoky taste and balance the sweetness. But when the cocoa rides solo, it won’t be too sweet, thanks to the dark chocolate.
The mayor picks up a cup of cocoa the Sleigh Beards made, then takes a sip.
“Hey, do you think she’ll be tipsy or buzzed by the time she arrives here?” Mabel asks.
“Neither,” I say, nodding as the mayor spits out the chocolate in a spit bucket that matches her megaphone.
“Dammit,” Mabel mutters.
“You wanted her wasted?”
“I feel like it can’t hurt. Hey, I want your team to win.”
“Between you and Rowan, I don’t know who’s playing more unfairly.”
“Speaking of,” she whispers, then tugs me close. “How’s it going?”
My stomach executes a series of loop-de-loops. “Too good,” I say with a wince, like I ate something sour. I whisper, “He came over last night with a surprise.”
“Was it his dick in a box?”
“Shut up,” I whisper, but I’m laughing. When I get a handle on it, I tug her away from the table, and tell her more, not only about the candy cane surprise he made on me, but the kiss on the street, the shopping for Mia, and the way Rowan seems…to have changed. “He’s still Rowan, of course. But he seems more open, and less…ornery.”
“Like he’s letting down his man-against-the-world facade?”
That’s it exactly. “Yes. I think his walls were all self-protection. And I understand why he’s had them,” I say, though I don’t share more details. They aren’t mine to share.