Page 11 of The Christmas Playbook
But now one’s going to be living in here, and that’s simultaneously hot and a cock block.
“We should discuss this,” she mutters.
My eyebrows hike. “Yeah? Maybe in the hot tub?”
“Did you bring swim trunks or?—?”
“The nakedness was an impulse,” I grumble. Like telling her we could share this cabin, which suddenly feels like it’s a thousand degrees. “Don’t worry, Frostbite, it won’t happen again.”
She’s still beet red, but she shakes it off and goes to the little table. She drags out a chair and motions for me to sit across from her.
I do, angling my seat so I can kick out my legs. I rest my forearm on the table and drum my fingers, my gaze resting on her face.
Similar and different. Grown up.
Pretty.
No—beautiful. Blue eyes, long blonde hair, pink lips. She’s not wearing makeup, but it doesn’t fucking matter.
“Okay. So, um, my family will no doubt all know that I have a boyfriend by now.” She can’t face me. “Which means I either come clean toallof them that I lied, or…”
Or, I go along with it.
“What kind of commitment are we talking about, here?”
She lights up when I don’t immediately write it off. Color me intrigued.
“Dinners, probably. At least two. We’re here until January second. When do you…?”
“Same.”
“Okay. Right. So, a couple dinners, just to satisfy their curiosity. I can make up something if you have plans with your friends. Um… skiing, too? A few times, just to show them that we’re doing stuff together.”
“I snowboard.” I tilt my head. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“I… no. I rented a snowboard, too.”
My eyebrows have a life of their own, because they shoot up. “When did you learn how to snowboard?”
“I can get by.” She scratches at her neck. “We always come here. It’s our Christmas tradition. And every year, I get snowboarding equipment and…”
I lean forward. “And what?”
“Nothing.” She clears her throat. “I don’t like being out there, but it’s going to be fine for the show of it, right?”
I’m trying to read between the lines, and the best that I can come up with is that Mira doesn’tactuallysnowboard. The more I think on it, though, slotting her into her family dynamics, the clearer the picture becomes.
They probably wouldn’t even notice if she got all dressed up in the outfit, with the board, then slipped away before getting on the lift.
My chest tightens at the thought of my family treating me that way.
They’d never.
“Some slope action, some dinners. Anything else?”
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends.”
I snort. “They’ll be fine if I’m a little absent. Now… about those orgasms?”
