Page 249 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“You got a deck of cards?” he asked.

“Would I have suggested strip poker if I didn’t?” she snorted, finally turning around and heading into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”

He watched her as he walked, the dress showing her upper thighs. “Got any bourbon?”

She gave him a surprised look over her shoulder. “No, but I have whiskey and gin.”

“Whiskey will do.”

“Goin’ for the hard stuff,” she said as she opened her fridge and pulled out a screw cap bottle of wine. She grabbed a wine glass out of the cabinet, gesturing to the fridge with her free hand. “The whiskey’s up there. Just like Dottie’s.”

“Most people store their alcohol above their refrigerators,” he said, reaching for the cabinet and sorting through the bottles. Some of them looked dusty and old, like maybe they were older than Maisie. Why had she kept them? “But the heat from the fridge can damage it. Especially opened bottles. It’s better to store them somewhere cool and dry.”

She gave him a sardonic look as he pulled out the Jameson. “Are you here to play strip poker or give me a lesson on storing alcohol?”

He turned back toward her and wrapped his free arm around her lower back, tugging her to his chest as he searched her face. “Definitely the former. The latter is pure bonus.”

She studied him for a moment with anIs he for real?look. Then her eyes lit up. “You’re just full of surprises.”

“You have no idea.” He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss, then sucked her bottom lip.

She reached her arms around his neck, eagerly kissing him back, but he took several steps backward, just out of reach. “Just giving you a sample of the goods.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Like I said. Full of surprises. You gonna pour that whiskey into a glass or drink straight from the bottle?”

He reached into the cabinet and got a juice glass, pouring a finger. He had no desire to get drunk. He wanted to experience every moment with her with his full faculties, yet there was no denying he liked the taste of bourbon. Or whiskey, in a pinch.

After she poured herself a glass of white wine—a moscato, he noticed—she opened a drawer and pulled out a deck of cards.

Holding his juice cup, he reached for her wrist, going for the hand holding the cards, and tugged her back to the living room while they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Where do you want to do this?” he asked. “The living room or in your bed?”

Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. “My room.”

“Tell me where we’re going, Maisie.”

“Or I could lead,” she said in a challenge.

He’d suspected she had a strong independent streak, but this confirmed it. A slow smile spread across his face as he spun her around to be in front.

She headed up a staircase and led him into a simple room—a bed that looked too small for the space with a gray quilted bedspread, a nightstand with a modern-looking metal lamp, anda beaten-up dresser that had seen better days. Kicking off her shoes in front of what he presumed was her closet door, she set the wine glass on the nightstand and sat on the bed. She scooted backward, crossing her legs, and gave him the tiniest sliver of her black panties to view.

Patience.

Setting his glass down beside hers, he slid off his shoes next to the bed and sat in front of her, crossing his legs too. “You do know I have the advantage here,” he said, taking the box and dumping out the cards. He started to shuffle them against his knee. “I have more clothes on than you do.”

“Call it a handicap,” she said, reaching for the cards and then launching into some fancy shuffling.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been suckered?” he asked with a laugh.

“One born every minute.” She started passing out cards. “Five-card draw or Texas Hold’em?”

“Five-card draw.”

She stopped shuffling. “Do you need a refresher of the rules?”

He laughed. “Deal already. I’m eager to get that dress off of you. I say the winner gets to pick the article of clothing that gets removed.” He smirked at her. “And they get to take it off as well.”

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