Page 85 of My Favorite Holidate

Bibi flings her hand to her chest. “I didn’t tell you? The town switched up the schedule and moved some things around, and we don’t want to miss a single event. We were all aiming for a morning arrival. And everyone made it,” she says, and I’m pretty sure Wilder told me mid-afternoon was the plan, but I’m not going to point that out. “But you’re here now, and I have good news.”

“Okay,” Wilder says, seeming wary of his aunt.

I am too. It feels like she’s doing this on purpose. Like Wilder was right to be concerned about her…machinations. Maybe she wanted us to be the last ones to arrive.

Bibi gestures behind her toward a sliding glass door that leads to a deck that boasts a view of the hills and the next cabin. The one with—is that a heart on its door? “For some reason, I was given the honeymoon cabin. The one with the cozy bedroom with the fireplace and the sleigh bed. A hot tub too. But that’s silly. You young lovers deserve it.”

And I was right. She is up to something. But that knowledge doesn’t change my reaction. My throat goesdry. My brain short-circuits. The honeymoon cabin can’t possibly have two bedrooms, can it? It has to have one. Which means…one bed.Confused, I turn to Wilder. How is he going to handle this…proximity?

He’s more stoic than I’ve ever seen him but a vein pulses in his neck. “The honeymoon cabin?” It’s a question paved with gravel.

Bibi’s grin is supersized. “Yes. Isn’t that perfect? With its one cozy, intimate room.”

“What about Leo and Charlotte?” I ask because I don’t want to be rude to the bride and groom.

“Of course we have one too,” my sister says, clearly enthused that I’ll get a cabin just like hers.

One room. One bed. Five nights. And an admission hanging over us that the one time in his office can’t happen again.

My stomach tips upside down. I’m not sure how we’re going to handle the sleeping arrangements. But this honeymoon suitemix-upfeels like an early test in the competition, and dammit, I’m not going to let us lose. I grab Wilder’s strong arm and tug my Christmas boyfriend against me, his hard body snug against my side. No idea if I’m winning or losing our private naughty or nice contest, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “Sounds great. Right, hun?”

I tip my face upward, then dust a kiss to his cheek.

His breath catches, then he says, “Yes.”

Like this is all he’s wanted.

Take that, Bibi.

27

THE GOOD FIGHT

Wilder

It’s not like I’ve visited every cabin here at this resort, but I’m sure we can make one of the honeymoon suites work. I don’t entirely know how it’s set up or decorated, but I’ll find out any second, and I’ll devise a plan for tonight right away.

A plan to deal with all this temptation pulsing between us.

With my jaw as tight as my muscles, I open the door. When Fable and I step inside, I take in every detail, like a robot scanning the landscape for intel. The king-size sleigh bed is adorned with plush pillows, a fluffy white duvet, and a red fleece blanket draped over the foot of the mattress. The room is L-shaped and in the little nook sits a cozy couch opposite a fireplace. Next to the fireplace is a Christmas tree, decorated simply with strands of lights, some tinsel, and several candy canes. The scent of pine and mint is faint but welcoming all the same.

It’s a lovers’ suite for sure. No two ways about it. But we said that time in my office was a once-only thing. A lapse. Something we needed to get out of our systems. We got it out and here we fucking are—sharing a bed.

My chest burns. My mind unhelpfully supplies a thousand filthy images. I fight the desire to look at the gorgeous woman next to me and toss her on that bed right now to test it out. I’ve got to get this lust under control.Now.

This is fine. This is totally fine. I can work with this suite.

Robot mode activated, I don’t waste a second cleaning up the mess Bibi made of my plans. I grab the bags and set them inside. The second the door closes with a click, I gesture to the sofa. “I’ll take the couch,” I declare firmly. There are no two ways about it. This is not up for discussion.

But Fable swivels around and stares at me like I’ve lost all common sense. Well, I feel a little tossed around. I don’t admit that often, and I’m sure as fuck not admitting it now to her. Fable’s kiss on my cheek knocked the breath right out of me. If anything more happens, I’ll be lost to her and she’ll know what a fool I am for falling.

“Wilder,” she says, arching one brow. “That’s ridiculous.”

My confidence stalls for a second, but then I remember Bibi’s stunt in front of all our guests and decide to stand my ground. “It’s fine.”

“It’s two-feet long.”

“It’s six,” I correct her. To prove my point, I walk along the carpet next to the sofa, measuring the furniture with precise steps. I complete six steps and turn around, victorious. “Six. There you go.”

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