Page 47 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Her palm is sweaty against mine, but I’d face down a whole swamp of alligators before I’d let go. The thought should scare the hell out of me, but instead, it steadies me.

My dad’s voice cuts through the haze. “Alright, Brutus. Pucker up!”

I give her hand a comforting squeeze, and together, we lean in towards Brutus’ snout.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chase

How is Ethan talkingme into these batshit crazy stunts?

The speedboat rocks beneath my feet as I eye the stepladder like it’s a trapdoor to hell. My “Santa’s Naughty Helper” costume makes Cardi B’s music video outfits look downright modest. This red satin bikini is barely holding in the twins, with the life vest doing its best to keep things PG-13. But my ass? It’s having a full-blown “main character” moment.

I squirm, painfully aware of how much skin I’m showing. Today’s stunt is even more outrageous, but hey, Ethan’s tactics are working. Not to kiss and tell, but we grew an additional 50,000 subscribers overnight after our alligator make-out session. Apparently, nothing screams “like and subscribe” like a potential trip to the ER.

And then today,BAM!We hit our 100k goal daily challenge within a few hours. We’re up to 400k subs now! I can’t believe it. Seven more days to go, and I’m feeling pretty freaking good about hitting our target.

Get those wallets ready, Wiley and Riley!

But first it’s time for me to give the fans what we promised. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the descent. Ethan is already perched on the ladder, his stupidly gorgeous blue eyes shining up at me. He looks annoyingly amazing in his red swim shorts. Those broad shoulders and sculpted arms? They’re impossible to ignore.

I’ve seen Ethan shirtless before. In Hollywood, you can’t swing a clapperboard without hitting a topless Ethan.

But this?

This is him in his natural habitat—half-naked and fully aware of the effect he has on women.Or, more specifically, this woman.

I need to remind myself that he’s an actor. Just yesterday he was explaining to me his process. Maybe he’s already figured out my spirit animal and how to sweet-talk his way into my pants. Nice try, guy, not happening.

“Hey there, sweetheart. You need a hand?” His voice is nonchalant, as if he’s asking if I want fries with that.

“No thanks,” I insist because I’m not some damsel in distress. But as I start to climb down, his hands find my waist, and oh my God, his touch is a pure shot of espresso.

“Careful now. Things tend to get slippery when wet,” he murmurs as I descend the access steps.

Each time his fingers graze my skin, sparks shoot through me, igniting a fire low in my belly that I’m desperately trying to ignore.

As I reach the base of the ladder, his palms slide down to my hips, then lower. I can’t hold back the gasp as he gives my ass a squeeze that’s anything but innocent.

“Ethan!” I hiss, throwing him a scowl over my shoulder.

He grins, completely shameless. “What? Just making sure the director knows she’s in good hands.”

His voice rumbles through me, all low and husky and irritatingly sexy. I’m supposed to be immune to his charms, but my knees are buckling. I mentally draft a strongly worded letter to my body:Knock this shit off.

For a moment, his eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, are dark and intense. I find myself drawn in by some magnetic force I can’t resist—

“Hold on to this for me?” Ethan says, breaking the spell and handing me his life jacket. Without hesitation, he dives headfirst into the water, swimming swiftly towards a two-person raft.

I watch him slice through the current, trying my best not to notice the way his muscles ripple with each stroke. Definitely not admiring. Except… okay, fine, it’s mesmerizing.

He reaches the inflatable and pulls himself up with an effortless heave. Liquid cascades down his body, and I am transfixed. Droplets cling to his abs, catching the sunlight. They’re like tiny, sparkly glitter bombs, and I’m fighting the urge to start a rave of my own…

On his stomach.

With my tongue.

Hold up. What the hell?

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