Page 33 of When the Fake Snow Falls

“God, I hope not,” he says with a grimace. “I’d like to think my company can do better, but you never know.”

His response only makes me laugh harder. “You know, as tacky as it is, there’s something beautiful about fake snow.”

He gives me a sideways glance, his eyes untrusting.

“Think about it,” I say with a smile. “It makes the impossible feel possible. There has to be some type of metaphorical beauty in something like that.”

“Fake snow is an embarrassment to real snow everywhere, but I like to see you getting into the Florida Christmas spirit.” His hand rests on mine, and you’d think he just licked my ear with the way my body reacts.

With a tight-lipped smile, I pull my hand from his and bring my cup to my lips. “I love how passionate you are about this.”

“More people should be.” He waves the topic away. “Okay, so not a great safe word.”

“What about Jack Frost?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The guy who makes it snow?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like he’ll be the talk of the party, and I don’t see why we’d have a reason to bring him up outside of it.”

He mulls it over. “I like it.”

“Glad you approve,” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

Chase smiles, but his attention locks on something behind me. A rush of sound from the holiday parade outside floods the shop as someone opens the door to enter. Looking over my shoulder, I scan the room. It still looks as busy as it did when we got here. There’s a small line of people waiting to order their holiday themed drinks. But then I see her. I see her long, blonde hair and bright smile as she walks in to start her shift.

I might not have noticed her when we were in here the other day, but based on the way Chase’s eyes track her every movement, it’s definitely her. It’s the girl he wanted to ask out in the first place.

Well, Merry Christmas to me.

fifteen

The shiftin his demeanor is subtle, but I see it. Gone is the confident, easy-going man who sat across from me moments ago, now to be replaced by a guy who looks like he doesn’t want to be noticed.

Something so small—so quick—but so painfully loud. I know the girl has a boyfriend, but he clearly doesn’t want her to see him here with me.

“Do you want to leave?” I ask.

He blinks. “Because of her?”

I nod.

That flawless, easy smile of his returns, but there’s a trace of apprehension in his eyes. “I can take being rejected, Candace.” He sits up straight, his playfulness returning. “Some might say I even thrive on it.”

Holding his stare, a smile gradually warms my features. “You would.”

He grins like I’ve complimented him.

“But we can still leave if you want to.”

Without taking the time to think about his response, Chase shakes his head. “No. We still need to talk about this party.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What else is there to talk about?”

“I think we should practice.”

My mouth goes dry, and I take another sip. “Practice what exactly?”

“Being around each other in a way that’s . . .” He wipes a hand over his mouth as he tries to find the right words.

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