Page 90 of My Favorite Holidate

I liked it far too much to let it happen again.

28

SNOWBALL-ISH

Fable

There’s no rest for a fake dater.

I can’t even come up for air. As I grab a scarf, beanie, and mittens, I can still feel his mouth on me. His lips. Hislips.I can still feel the rush of heat in my body. My chest flips from the filthy memory of his wicked apology. But I can’t keep losing my pants for him, no matter how talented his hands or his mouth are.

So fucking talented.

But the more we cross the line, the more complicated this holiday ruse becomes. And honestly, as much as I want to return the favor—and I do, oh hell do I ever—I don’t need or want a complication. Or, like he said, an addiction. TheOs he bestows are definitely of the addictive variety.

I want this wedding to go smoothly. I want to win the Christmas competition. He clearly doesn’t want a distraction.If Wilder and I keep lunging at each other, we run the risk of becoming…real.

Even on a temporary basis.

And real couples hurt each other. With words, with deeds, with disappointment. If it feels all too real, he could back out or change his mind. Or we could get too caught up in the moment. It’s best we keep this romance as fake as it can be.

We leave the suite and Charlotte ferries us from the cabins immediately, urging us through the main living room and out the door. “The snowball-fighting competition was moved to today. It starts in forty-five minutes,” she explains, enthused. My sister sounds like she can’t wait. Makes sense. She’s always loved activities—the more the merrier for my outgoing sister.

“I thought that event was tomorrow,” I say to Charlotte as I tug on snow boots by the cabin door.

“The snowball fight isn’t usually for another day or so,” Wilder adds.

Charlotte shoots us a look like we don’t make sense to her. “Did either of you hear what Bibi said? The town tweaked the schedule a bit to fit in more events,” she says, and yes, Bibi did say that, but with the ‘welcome to One Bed Town, population you’ talk it’d slipped from my mind. Must have done the same to Wilder, or perhaps that apology fried the schedule right out of his brain in an out-of-character moment for both of us.

A fresh new worry digs into my chest.

What if my sister sees through us? If she learns we’re fake dating because of Brady—even though Wilder needs a plus one too—she’ll worry about me. She’ll feel responsible. She’ll think it was her fault for introducing us, and thenshe’ll feel like she should tell Leo, and I don’t want her to carry that guilt. Ugh. Why does Brady need to be related to my sister’s amazing groom? Family ties sometimes just suck.

I don’t want to add more stress to her plate. Not when she’s having so much fun. This is exactly what I want for Charlotte—her happiness. Her joy. She’s in her element and I don’t want to steal focus like my father did over and over, especially around the holidays.

It’s her moment to be the star. It’s my moment to blend in.

That means I need to pay attention. Not trip over little details. “It’s a good time for a snowball fight,” I say, trying to forget what just went down.Him.

“It’s going to be great,” Charlotte says as she bounds down the steps toward the driveway, clasping Leo’s arm happily, like she can’t get enough of her fiancé. “I guess the snow is particularly snowball-ish this afternoon.”

With the grin of a wildly-in-love man, Leo presses a kiss to her hair, curling out from under a red beanie with a white pom-pom bobbing on top. “It just snowed the other night, and studies show the perfect snowball consistency is two days later,” Leo says in an even tone, like he’s evaluating hedge funds for his portfolio.

Or really, putting his friend on.

Wilder seems off his game, though, and arches a brow skeptically. “That’s the ideal time for snowball consistency? That’s why the competition was moved?”

Hmm. That’s odd for Wilder not to quite pick up on the joke. Especially since Bibi’s watching us like a hawk while opening the passenger door to Caroline’s SUV.

With an amused scoff, Leo claps Wilder on the back. “Hell if I know. They moved it because they moved it.What do you think? There’s a snowball competition conspiracy?”

“Perhaps the whole town is in on the conspiracy,” Bibi puts in, her eyes meeting Wilder’s.

He seems to blink off his confusion. “Yes, the Evergreen Falls conspiracy,” he says, smoothly once again.

We slip into the car and the second the door closes, I whisper, “Are you okay? You seemed off.”

He grips the steering wheel but his expression is blank for a beat before he says, “Just…distracted. I’m fine now.”

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