Page 2 of Christmas in Paradise

I’m in trouble.

When he lowers his head, he looks at me from the corner of his eye. “I know who you are, Hope, and I know you’re old enough for a beer.” He’s still testing me, prodding me for a reaction. “I didn’t want to risk your sister’s wrath. She’s already warned me to keep my distance.”

He drops this info casually, like he’s talking about the weather, not the fact he’s disobeying my sister—stepsister.

“Eviewarned you away?”

The irony here is rich. I’m seven years younger than Evie. She’s the one who introduced me to Patrick and Tony and Jess and every other boy—good, bad, or older—Mom’s media restrictions were supposed to keep me from meeting.

Evie had no problem helping me break my mom’s rules, and now she’s making rules of her own for me?

It’s like, instead of working the event-planning job she hooked me up with, shewantsme to have a summer fling with this guy.

“Yep.” He rocks the neck of his Corona between his thumb and fingers. “Said you’d break my heart.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Iknowshe didn’t say that.”

Probably the exact opposite.

This guy looks like he’s in the heart-breaking game. His topaz eyes drink me in without leaving my face, and I can almost hear a Taylor Swift break-up song playing in the background. Odds are high he’s got a drawer full of unreturned scarves and other trophies from past relationships.

“Maybe those weren’t her exact words.” He takes a sip of his beer and the muscles in his neck tighten, tempting me.

“And yet, here you are, ignoring her warning.” I stretch out my legs and lean back on my hands. My sundress hits me mid-thigh, and one of the spaghetti straps falls from my shoulder. I look at him as I pull it back into place.

Do I know I’m playing with fire?

Yes.

Do I care?

No.

Should I?

Without a doubt.

But I only left Kansas yesterday, and I already miss Charly like crazy. My eight-week quasi-internship with my sister’s wedding planner, Carson, is just the opportunity I need to learn the ropes while he gets his business up and running. But right now, the time stretches out long in front of me. I need a distraction. I need something I haven’t had in almost three years: fun.

So right now, some heavy flirting with a man who’s supposed to be off-limits sounds like fun. Maybe the only fun possible in this sleepy town that’s even smaller than my hometown in Kansas. Especially when Evie and her fiancé, Adam, have already asked me to help at his restaurant, the Garden of Eatin,’ when I’m not helping plan Evie and her friend Georgia’s televised double wedding to the Thomsen twins, Adam and Zach.

It's a lot.

The point is: this guy may be exactly what I need to keep from thinking nonstop about Charly during whatever downtime I may have.

“Soooo,” I twist the metal cap on my Coke, but it’s already been loosened and comes right off. “What exactly was my sister’s warning?”

He leans back on his elbows, squinting at the setting sun. “She said not to distract you from helping Carson and the wedding because you need to stay focused.”

“Uh huh. I wonder if Evie warned everyone in town not to distract me, or . . .” I sip my Coke, letting a little suspense build. “Is there something about you, in particular, she thought might distract me?”

His cheek twitches. And I think I’ve discovered his tell—the subconscious clue that means he’s all in, ready to play.

Still leaning on his elbows, he lifts his palms as though to show me thathe’sthe distraction.

He’s not wrong.

I’m fighting hard not to get distracted by the way his long, dark eyelashes contrast with the shades of gold in his eyes. I’d kill for those lashes.

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