Page 32 of The Mistletoe Makeover

I don’t remember falling asleep, but at some point, I drifted off. Between the hand warmers and our combined body heat, I’m snug and toasty, cocooned under these covers. That’s when the fragments of last night’s dream take shape: An arm slung around my waist. Someone’s breath warming the curve of my neck. My body tucked against the wall of someone’s chest. I’m trying to remember the rest of the dream—who the mystery person is and why we’re tangled together—when I feel something move. Something that’s touching me.

My eyes fly open. Is that a cockroach? Rats? At the Pine Paradise, anything is possible.

Without moving my body, I squint in the hazy grey light and see something move under the covers. I slowly lift my head to figure out what is happening.

Is that Jace’s arm...on me?

Don’t freak out,I tell myself, even though I’m most definitely freaking out.

During the night, I must have rolled near his chest—probably for warmth—although I don’t remember moving.

And now, his arm is slung over my waist so naturally, it’s like it’s made to be there.

I stare at the wall, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation before Jace wakes.

And if he does wake, what do I say then? This is worse than the time I ripped the crotch of my pants in the third grade. Or when I realized I was in the men’s room at a travel stop... while I was on the toilet.

My heart races frantically, and I want to shake myself, but that would require moving... which I can’t do without bumping Jace.

I attempt to slip out from under his arm, but as soon as I move, Jace stirs.

I hold my breath. Either I roll over in one swift move and pretend that we accidentally bumped each other, or I confess to our accidental cuddling, which might look like I’m subconsciously attracted to him.

There’s really only one option—sneak out of his embrace as quickly as possible and hope he doesn’t wake.

Three, two, one...

With a quick motion, I roll to my right and fall onto the floor as Jace’s arm flops onto the bed.

The thud my body makes as I hit the floor sounds like I dropped a bowling ball, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming in pain.

Jace stirs. “Is it morning?” He lifts his head over the side of the bed and frowns at me. “Why are you on the floor?”

I stand and glance around like I have no idea. “I fell... getting my glasses,” I say, reaching over to snatch them off the nightstand.

Jace must believe my excuse, because he doesn’t ask any more questions about why I’m on the carpet. He digs one palm into his sleepy eyes, looking adorable with his tousled curls. It’s not even fair how good this man looks with bedhead. I’m tempted to roll right back toward him.

I run my hand through my hair and feel strands sticking up on the top, like some freakish Halloween wig. I do a quick double take in the mirror and see lines imprinted on my cheek from sleeping on my side. And is thatdrool?

“Is it still snowing?” I ask, hoping he’ll check the window and ignore me for a few seconds.

He reaches toward the blind and peeks through as I furiously rub my cheek, trying to erase the pillow lines and dried drool.

“It stopped, but it’s a winter wonderland out there,” he says.

When he turns back, I pretend to fiddle with the coffee maker, pouring the mysterious packet of no-name coffee and filling the water tank. As soon as I push start, a burning stench fills the air.

“What’s that smell?” I crinkle my nose.

Jace sniffs. “Smells like you’re about to burn down the motel... which might be the best thing to ever happen to this place.”

Above the coffee maker a puff of smoke rises like an ominous cloud. “Um, Houston, we have a problem.” Even though burning down the motel sounds good, I don’t want to be stuck in the snow either. I unplug the machine. “Despite its name, this place isnotparadise.”

Jace’s mouth curls slightly. “It probably wasn’t good coffee, anyway.”

“Maybe today’s the day I give up my caffeine addiction.”

“Do you have another option?”

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