Page 10 of This December

He leaned forward, then rested his arms on his knees as an earnest expression crossed his face. “Don’t let anyone dictate your circumstances, and don’t ever let yourself feel like you’re stuck without any options. You deserve to be happy. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“I…” I sighed. “You’re right. Thank you for putting it in perspective for me.”

He gave me this soft, sweet smile—dimple flashing and everything. “You’re welcome. Now tell me. How do you feel about steak?”

“Love it. I’m a red meat kinda girl.”

He shook his head. “Just when I think you can’t get any hotter…”

* * *

Over steaks and salad, Cole was the perfect host, asking me general get-to-know-you questions and really making me feel at ease. But said absolutely nothing about himself. I didn’t notice at first, mostly since I was so busy talking about myself, but about an hour into dinner, it occurred to me he wasn’t sharing about himself.

So I decided to test him.

“What’s your favorite kind of music?” I set my fork down and cocked my head. “Because honestly, I never would’ve guessed a guy like you would be into easy listening.”

Some soft jazz stuff had been playing in the background since I’d arrived. Honestly, I didn’t notice at first, but now that I had, it was all I could think about. This was as far from ‘Party Summer’as he could get without being classical music. It was so weird and puzzling.

He cocked his head. “A guy like me?”

“Yeah, a guy like you—someone who looks like you—all capable mountain man with that urban edge but young enough to afford a place like this.” I raised my eyebrows. “I kinda thought you’d be into country rock.”

“Country rock?” His eyes bugged out of his head. “Me?”

I giggled. He was so easy to screw with. I shrugged and feigned an innocent expression. “Am I wrong?”

He sent me a considering look then picked up his phone and toggled through some options. After a beat, a new song started playing—a man talk-singing with piano chords before a drumbeat kicked in with a mellow guitar accompanying.

It took me a second, but then I recognized Keith Urban’s ‘I’ll Be Your Santa Tonight.’

I burst into laughter.

Cole smiled back at me and held his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

Utterly charmed, I took his hand and let him pull me up. In seconds, we were swaying next to his fireplace with Keith Urban serenading us. My arms wound around his shoulders, and he held me around my waist like a gentleman. Having all of him so close to me was intoxicating. Notes of cedar, spice, and man tickled my nose. My heart thundered in my ears despite our sedate swaying.

I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes. I was afraid my every thought would be telegraphed to him. And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know how much he affected me. The last time I was this close to a guy was…damn, I couldn’t remember.

Wasn’t that sad?

Then his fingers ducked under the bottom of my shirt and teased the bare skin on my lower back.

I shivered at his touch, and my breath hitched. Now I couldn’t help but look up at him. He was already staring down at me with this tender expression that made my heart pound even louder in my ears. His eyes searched mine for a long second, and then he leaned down and kissed me.

My eyes fluttered closed, and I kissed him back. His lips were petal soft, but so confident and sure. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, and I opened them to him. I lost myself in his kiss. It could’ve lasted for a minute or an hour. But it was everything. Heady. Sexy.

And I wanted more.

My hands skimmed down to ruck his shirt up his ridiculously hard abs that I just had to run my fingers over. God, this man. How was this my real life?

Like he heard my thought, he pulled back and smoldered down at me. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “That’s—you’re… Wow is right.”

He smiled then the heat slowly slid out of his expression. “December, I can’t promise much. I’m only here until just after Christmas. I don’t—”

“I kinda figured.” I gave him a wry look. “Nothing about this set up—” I gestured to the chalet around us. “Or how we met says that you’re a local. You’ve got holiday mode written all over you.”

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