Page 12 of Never Sleigh Never

She looks up and catches me watching her. “Did I miss a spot?”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “You’re perfect. Er…I mean, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” Her voice is soft, almost breathless.

“Yeah,” I scoff, shrugging off my blunder. “You know, for a paintjob. But, um, we should call it a night. It’s getting late.”

Cara nods, stretching. “I need my beauty sleep.”

Her sweatshirt rides up, revealing a sliver of skin along her side that makes my mouth go dry. She doesn’t need a second of beauty sleep. The way she looks right now, mussed up and worn out, is gorgeous. More stunning than I’ve ever seen her.

But I can’t tell her any of that. So instead, I start cleaning up, needing to move, to work off some restless energy.

“There’s still a lot to do tomorrow,” I say, regretting the way I sound like a drill sergeant.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, we still need to finish the decorations, communicate with all the volunteers, and coordinate with the food trucks.”

“And set up the stage for the carolers,” I add.

“Oh! And don’t forget about the photo booth. I’ve been working on the props.”

I groan at her enthusiasm.

“It’ll be magical; you’ll see,” she insists with a wink. An actual honest-to-goodness wink. I don’t think anyone has ever winked at me in my entire life.

As we tidy up, a strange reluctance settles over me that the evening is over, which is ridiculous. Cara’s only here because I’m helping with the festival. Nothing more. Still, I find myself moving slower, stretching out these last moments.

Cara bends to pick up a fallen paintbrush, and I can’t help but notice the way her overalls stretch over her hips. I’ll need to take a cold shower when I get home, but until then, I clench my fingers into fists, forcing away the curl of desire in my gut. She has a man, after all.

She straightens, turning to me with a smile. “I think that’s everything.”

I grunt in agreement. As she moves toward the store and I follow, Cara’s foot catches on a crack in the old asphalt. Without thinking, I reach out, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me to steady her. She gasps, her hands flying up to grip my biceps.

And in that moment, reality is suspended for a heartbeat as we’re pressed together, chest-to-chest, and every curve of her body pinned against me. Her warm breath fans across my face, smelling faintly of peppermint, and I’m acutely aware of how easy it would be to lean down and kiss her.

As if she can read my mind, Cara’s gaze drops to my mouth, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. My grip on her waist tightens, and my cock stiffens.

“Thanks,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper as she makes no move to pull away.

“Sure,” I manage, the word coming out rough.

The winter air between us feels charged, heavy with possibility. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure she must hear it. Or feel the throbbing bulge in my jeans against her belly that reveals exactly what I want. But because I’m an idiot, who can’t leave well enough alone, I blurt out, “Your boyfriend coming to the festival?”

Cara stiffens in my arms, and I immediately want to kick myself.Why the hell did I bring him up?

Surprise flits across her face as she steps back, out of my arms, which fall helplessly to my side. “Wayne and I broke up.”

The words hit me like a sucker punch.Cara’s single? Since when?The realization sends a jolt of electricity through me, followed quickly by a wave of guilt. I shouldn’t be happy about her breakup. And I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about how soft her lips look or how perfectly she fit in my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Even if I never met the guy, I could tell he was no good for her.

“You don’t mean that, do you?”

My gaze snaps to hers. The question hangs in the darkness, and something tells me there’s more riding on my answer than I realize. But I can’t lie to this woman again, though I’m sure as hell setting myself up for heartbreak.

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t realize how lucky he was.”

“Oh.”

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