Page 40 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

I haven’t told them about his secret. I’m not sure I’ll tell anyone. Except I feel it beating into me like it’s a hammer thumping my head.

“Okay,” I say, through a scratchy throat. “But you go first, Princess.”

“Shouldn’t we spin the bottle to see who goes first?” she asks, looking up at me playfully with those big blue eyes.

“Let’s not mix genres,” I say, moving the pillow in my lap because it’s pretty damn uncomfortable at this point.

“Okay,” she says softly. “Truth.”

“Which of the guys in the house is the front-runner?”

Maybe I want to know who my competition is. I don’t know. I probably should have asked her some other shit, like what she’d like me to do to her, because if this Truth or Dare bullshit isn’t an invitation, then I’ve completely lost my touch with women.

If Kennedy’s annoyed by my presumptuousness, it doesn’t show. “I don’t know,” she answers. “I’m not vibing with any of them, to be honest. So I’ll probably just go with whoever Harry and your grandmother think would be the best choice for the show.” She makes a disgusted face. “Even if it’s Jonah.”

Her answer pleases me more than it should, especially since I have a natural horror for the idea of letting my grandmother do anything.

Kennedy cocks her head, studying me. “There’s someone else who’s caught my interest.”

My pulse thrums faster. My dick twitches. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but Oliver’s gay.”

“Youknowwho I’m talking about.”

I do. But I’m less certain of why she’s calling it out in the open. Isn’t it as obvious to her as it is to me that anything between us would be a non-starter? She lives in Chicago; I hate big cities. She’s from a rich, cultured family; I’m a handyman and part-time fireman with a high school degree. Then, the kicker—she’s the star of a reality TV show in whichmy grandmotherhas set her up with several eligible bachelors.

This is not the stuff a long-lasting relationship is made of.

But maybe that’s not what Princess is asking for…

If she wants a different kind of fun, the kind that comes with no strings, I’m more than interested…

I open my mouth to say something, but she thrusts the bottle of shitty scotch into my hand. “Your turn,” she says.

“What if I don’t want anymore?”

“Then you’re wise. I meant your turn for Truth or Dare.” She swallows, and my gaze tracks her long neck. The shirt covers too damn much.

Is she going to dare me take it off? To kiss me?

I want both of those things to happen, but not because of a damn dare.

So I swallow and say, “Truth.”

Is it my imagination, or did her face fall?

Definitely not my imagination. Still, I can tell she’s thinking hard, really pouring herself into it, like this is an exam she’s determined to pass. “What’s your favorite hobby?” she finally asks.

“Other than cutting down Christmas trees?” I smile. “I’m a handyman because I like to tinker. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve liked building things.”

“What’s your favorite thing to build?”

“I build car models and give them working motors.”

“I’d like to see one of those,” she says, and I think she actually means it.

“Truth or dare,” I ask, peering at her. Wondering if she’ll go for the dare this time. Wondering what I’ll ask her to do if she does.

“Truth.”

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