Page 39 of The Holiday Fakers
Her words cut straight to my heart, and I hold my breath, staring up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry again.
“Do you want a hug?” she asks tentatively.
I give a tiny nod, and then she’s in my arms, and my whole body sighs, “Yes.”
I rest my head against hers, breathing in her scent like it’s the air keeping me alive.
“Thank you,” I manage, and she hugs me tighter.
Her touch isn’t sexual. It’s just … loving. Comforting. Kind.
But the longer we stand there, the harder it becomes for me to stay in the friend zone.
The edges of my grief soften and dissolve, and in their place, a steady beat of attraction builds, growing louder and louder.
My cock wakes up, and I panic. Piper’s being nice, and I’m being … the biggest creeper on the block.
The hug is now officially too long and has turned, for me, into the opposite of platonic. If we don’t break apart right now, she’s gonna know exactly how attracted I am to her, and that is not what either of us wants.
We jump apart as the doorbell rings, and Piper rushes to open it.
“Mia!” she screams as her best friend grabs her in a fierce hug, and they jump up and down, squealing.
I close the door against the winter air, wishing I could roll around in the snow to cool off from Piper’s touch. Then I gaze at her and Mia.
Mia’s older, more grown up, but her curly auburn hair still reaches her waist.
Finally breaking away from Piper, she gives me the once-over.
“Welcome back to Hideaway Harbor, Brody.”
She glances slyly at the light fitting above Piper and me, where a sprig of mistletoe is tied.
“Well, what are the chances?” Mia puts a hand on my shoulder. “You need to do the right thing, Brody.”
I stare blankly at her.
She slowly nods and gives me a slight push. “You need to kiss Piper.”
CHAPTER 8
PIPER
“Mia! Knock it off!”
I’m breathing too fast, my internal organs ricocheting around inside of me like they’ve just been caught doing something naughty and are scrambling to get back where they belong.
I was meant to be comforting Brody, but it turned, at least for me, into something else. Something so hot, horny, and addictive that I couldn’t let him go.
Jesus. And after he’d just ripped open his chest and bared his soul to my entire family?
“I’m only trying to help,” Mia protests, a cheeky glint in her eye.
“How, exactly?” I cross my arms, attempting a stern face.
“Is that Mia?” Mom calls from the dining room.
“Yes, give us a minute!”
