Page 57 of The Snuggle is Real
“Uh-huh.”
“Ford, I swear.” I slapped his chest with a laugh. “I’mverygood with my hands when I need to be.”
He caught my hand, holding it over his heart. Was it just me, or was it beating just as fast as mine?
“Ford?” Charlie called from downstairs. “Where are you? I’m hungry!”
Ford dropped my hand and turned toward the door. “Be down in a second, Charlie!”
Just like that, the moment between us fizzled out. Which was good. Because it was supposed to be harmless flirting. Ford wasn’t really interested in what my hands could do. He was just teasing me. That was all.
“We should get going so you can enjoy your night,” Ford said.
“Yeah, of course,” I said. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Nah, stay here. Get some of that stripping done.” He pointed to the wall, and this time, I didn’t make any flirty remarks. “That whole section is primed for you.”
“Good idea,” I said. “Thanks for all the tips.”
“Sure thing. Let me know if I can help you with anything, all right? It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for us.”
“That was Holiday Hope Foundation. I was just doing my job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought we agreed it was more than a job to you.”
Busted.
I smiled. “Guess you got me there.”
He tentatively slapped my upper arm, like we were bros, and all my silly fantasies that we’d actually been flirting shriveled up and died.
As I watched him leave the room, I tried to convince myself that was a good thing.
CHAPTER 16
Ford
“Here you go,Charlie. Hang up this little angel for me, sweetie.”
Charlie took the ceramic ornament from Dottie’s hands and skipped over to the tree I’d helped set up in front of her front window.
I chuckled. “She never gets enough of this. We already set up our own tree.”
“Mm-hmm. With Mason’s help. I heard.”
Dottie’s tone was layered with subtext I didn’t appreciate.
“Charlie wanted him to stay,” I countered. “She likes him.”
“Right.Shelikes him,” Dottie said, her eyes twinkling in a way that made me suspicious.
Charlie came over, and Dottie handed her another ornament to hang, this one a little wooden reindeer.
“Mason’s a nice guy, Dottie,” I said. “One of the nicest guys I’ve met, but?—”
My cell phone rang, saving me from finishing that sentence. Honestly, I had no idea what I was going to say. I wasn’t even sure if Dottie was implying what Ithoughtshe was implying.
Maybe I was projecting.
