Page 30 of Holiday Power Play

Lana

Itoss another piece of wood into the stoked fire. I love the smell of burning wood, it brings me right back to the cold Christmas winters back in Canada growing up.

Snow falls. Cozy fires. Hot chocolate. Christmas lights.

I look around the near empty living room. Trevor is nowhere in sight. I told him to stay away, and except for bringing down a small tree for me to flock, it seems like he's doing just that.

Good. I'm glad he finally took a hint. Because I can't be around him without completely losing my mind, apparently. Nobody should smell that good. Nobody shouldfeelthat good pressed against me.

And now I find myself dwelling on the fact that Trevor Sincaid might actually be one of the most attractive humans I've ever been around. Which makes me dislike him even more.

He's not the kind of guy I'd typically be attracted to. I tend to go for a less playful type. More serious. More goal-oriented. Someone who knows what he wants in life.

My ex, basically.

But Trevor has this way about him. He's cool. Unbothered. Everything seems like a game to him.

There's a thump against the floor above me followed by a loud grunt. And it sounds like he just stubbed his toe. I grab the stoker and push around the firewood, watching the fire build.

There's another loud thump.

What the hell is he doing up there?

Annoyed, I make my way down the hallway. "Trevor?"

I don't hear anything.

Did he die?

"Trevor?" I call out again.

Another loud thump.

Nope, still alive.

I make my way up the small staircase that leads up to the creepy door of the attic. The light at the top is dim but enough for me to get a good view of him without him seeing me.

He has a pair of headphones sitting on top of his head and he's humming to something he's listening to as he shuffles some boxes around. All of which would be completely acceptable except that he's not wearing a shirt.

I watch as he takes a box down from a stack, his muscles coiling as he reaches overhead. He has a nice back—strong, toned and it's adorned by a giant tattoo scrawled across his skin.

I watch as he moves and I finally hear the words to the song he's singing.

Stargazing.Ugh. Way to ruin a moment. I move to go downstairs but I hear my name.

I turn just as I watch him take his headphones off.

"Were you just watching me, little grinch?"

"I thought you died," I blurt out.

He chuckles. "What?"

"The noise… I thought you died."

"Sorry to disappoint. Just looking for those damn decorations your brother was talking about. Whoever lives heredoesn't believe in labels and I'm starting to think he just sent me on a wild goose chase."

I step through the tiny door, wondering how a guy of Trevor's stature—and especially my brothers—is even able to get through it.

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