Page 45 of My Secret Snowflake
He reaches over me. Way too close. What is he doing? I hold my breath. I don’t dare turn around because he’ll be right there.
The warmth from his body recedes. I grab the rolling pins.
“Hmm,” Sebastian says from behind me. “Your apron’s coming untied. Let me fix it.”
His hands brush my back. That memory of his hands on my hips…and the almost-kiss last night when I leaned in. My cheeks heat up.
Aprons are definitelynotin the same category as socks.
“All done,” he murmurs so close to my ear that it gives me shivers.
My body has not received the message that this isnotallowed. I need to tell him I’m sorry, and this closet seems as good a place as any. Especially since it’s private.
I turn to face him.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I know I leaned in to kiss you, and I know you want to remain single. I’d just had too much to drink.”
“No need for apologies,” he says. “I’d also had too much to drink…and I also leaned in to kiss you.”
He leaned in too. It wasn’t just me.Thank you.
“I’m obviously attracted to you…” he says.
He’s attracted to me?
He continues, “But given our circumstances, I don’t think it would be a good idea to have a relationship—or even a fling.” And his gaze briefly flicks to my lips again.
And then I focus on the second part of that sentence. A fling. Lovely.
“Yeah, definitely not.” Although as our glances meet, and he’s so close, I am tempted. We’re both single, and we could act on this attraction. But then I’d probably really fall for him and be left pining.
“As I said before—”
Oh, no. I definitely don’t want to be told again that he’s committed to remaining single.
“I got the message. Don’t worry.” I hand him a rolling pin, although seriously, dude needs to move on past this best friend. Especially if she’s engaged. “You can roll out the gingerbread dough first.”
He blinks and takes the rolling pin.
I slide past him and return to the counter. I’m sure the dough has had enough time to warm up. It certainly feels hot in this kitchen.
Sebastian rolls up his sleeves. Attractive forearms. Again. This feels like torture. And he can actually roll out the dough, especially because he’s putting a bit of muscle into it. I could happily watch him all day. Yummy.
“Where’d you learn to roll out cookie dough?” I ask.
“Mom. I told you, she’s a big Christmas fan,” he says. “The Hallmark movies are already on, and I have a standing invitation to come over every Friday and watch with her.”
“And do you?” I ask. He doesn’t strike me as the Hallmark movie type.
“Usually. My dad’s health isn’t great, so I’m trying to spend more time with them.” Sebastian looks down. “But it’s tricky. Because we often end up disagreeing, and that certainly doesn’t help his heart.”
He looks so vulnerable and lost.
“It’s good to still spend time with them.” I gently cover his hand with mine. He looks up and smiles wryly.
“It’s weird to contemplate losing your parents,” he says. “Not that he’s that ill, but the doctor says he needs to exercise more. My mom took that as an excuse to get a dog, so now he has to walk it.”
“Is it working?”
