Page 29 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

That what happened tonight at the bar wasn’t simply physical attraction. I glance at my reflection in the window.

My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright. I look alive, more alive than I’ve felt in months. And it’s all because of him.

Me: We’re going to be family.

Jack: Step-family.

The bubbles appear and disappear.

Jack: You’re killing me, Eden. Every time I see you, every time you text me, you’re all I think about.

Me: Are you always this forward?

Jack: Only with women who draw me looking like a Greek god with a big nose.

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my mouth, glancing at Mom’s door. But the white noise machine drones on.

Me: You’re terrible.

Jack: You love it.

The playful back-and-forth, the underlying heat, even the way he reads my mind - all feels so right. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years instead of days.

Me: Maybe I just love torturing you.

Jack: Mission accomplished.

I shouldn’t be flirting like this. Jack’s going to be family soon. I press my forehead against the cool window glass.

Me: We shouldn’t be talking about this.

Jack: Already crossed that line. Here we are, texting at 3 AM.

Me: Because we’re both idiots apparently.

Jack: Speak for yourself. I’m making excellent life choices. Like trying to convince a beautiful woman to come to the county fair with me.

I almost drop my phone, my heart doing a stupid little flip at the word “beautiful.”

Coming from Jack, that single word hits different. Maybe because I’ve seen how carefully he chooses his words, how he means what he says.

Jack: Come to the fair with me tomorrow.

I tap my phone against my chin, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.

Me: Let me guess - cotton candy, rigged carnival games, and sketchy rides that probably haven’t passed inspection since 1987?

Jack: Don’t forget the prize-winning pigs.

I roll my eyes, but my fingers are already typing.

Me: Be still my beating heart. Nothing says romance like the smell of livestock.

Jack: Who said anything about romance? Getting the bar’s Christmas tree from my buddy Nico. He runs the tree lot there.

Me: Sure. The tree. Nothing to do with your future stepmom suggesting you show me around?

Jack: Caught that, did you?

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