Page 119 of Holiday Hire

"Sure."

I motion for her to go first, and almost put my hand on her back but stop myself.

Friends only.

It might be hard not to want more, but Phoebe's right. Neither of us is in a position to get involved with the other. All it will do is hurt someone, possibly my boys.

We leave the house, not saying anything, and cross the yard to the main house. When we get inside, dinner is ready. My family's in the dining room, ready to eat.

We grab chairs across from each other, and unlike breakfast, we fall back into our usual banter. It feels good, yet I can't help wishing things could be different, even though I know it's not our reality.

20

Phoebe

Thanksgiving Day

The aroma of fresh coffee and bacon flares in my nostrils. I slowly open my eyes, groaning, and shut them again. My pulse pounds against my skull. My mouth tastes dry, like something died in it.

I blink a few times, then slowly sit up and glance out the window. Frost covers the corners of the glass, and big snowflakes fall on the other side of the pane.

I force myself to get out of bed, put on a robe over my pajamas, and slide my feet into my slippers. I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and gurgle some mouthwash.

I leave the bathroom and slowly make my way into the kitchen.

Alexander leans against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. I can tell he's already been outside this morning—hisboots and cowboy hat are on. The corners of his lips curve, and sympathy fills his expression.

Even though I feel like crap, my heart beats harder at the sight of him and that smile. I wish he weren't so sexy, but no matter what we agreed to, my attraction for him hasn't waned. We've done our best to return things to how they were, but it's hard. Several times this week, I've wanted to reach out and touch him and had to remind myself not to.

"How are you feeling, Pheebs?"

I groan. "How many beers did I have?"

He chuckles. "I didn't count. Especially after you made that bet with Sebastian."

What bet?

I try to remember the events of last night, recalling them step by step. A vision of the Cartwrights chanting my name pops into my mind. "Oh geez," I say, shaking my head and then wincing at the stab of pain.

"Easy there," Alexander warns. He turns and pours another cup of coffee. He sets it on the table. "Sit down."

I obey and wrap my hands around the warm mug.

He reaches into the cabinet, pulls out a bottle of headache tablets, and puts two in his palm. He holds them out, ordering, "Here, take these. They'll help your head."

I take them from him, and he moves a glass of water toward me.

I swallow the pills and ask, "What exactly did Sebastian bet me?"

"Oh, it wasn't Sebastian," Alexander reveals, trying to keep a straight face.

I furrow my brows, admitting, "I'm lost. Can you be more specific?"

Amusement appears on Alexander's expression. "You were the one who bet him you could chug a beer faster than him."

I put my hand over my face, moaning, "I did?"

Alexander's lips twitch. "You sure did."

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