Page 10 of Merry'd to the Mountain Man
Almost.
We’re waiting for Ryan and his wife to arrive any minute. My stomach’s a knot of nerves and caffeine. Frankie fusses with the garland on the banister like she’s trying to distract herself too.
“They should be here any minute,” I say, glancing toward the window.
“Wait.” She turns to me suddenly, eyes wide. “We forgot something.”
My brows draw together. “What?”
Before I can finish the word, she steps closer, grabs a fistful of my flannel, and tugs me down. Her lips brush mine. It’s quick, soft, and gone in an instant.
For a moment, I just stand there, stunned. “What was that for?”
She bites down on her plump bottom lip, looking entirely too calm. “If your cousin is as conniving as I think, he’s going to play up the mistletoe angle the first chance he gets to see if we look like we’ve ever kissed before.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “Is that so?”
She nods.
“Well then,” I say, my voice lower now, “In that case, we might need a little more practice.”
Before she can reply, I cup her face in my hands. Her skin’s warm beneath my palms, her breath catching slightly. I lean in,this time slow enough for her to stop me if she wants to. She doesn’t.
The first brush of our lips is tentative, like we are each testing the waters. But then something shifts. I angle closer, deepening the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness of peppermint and chocolate on her tongue. She lets out a quiet sound—half sigh, half moan—that shoots straight through me.
The world narrows to the press of her body against mine, the crackle of the fire, and the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in her hair.
And then—
The front door flies open.
“Merry Christmas!”
We break apart like we’ve been electrocuted. I spin toward the doorway to find Ryan standing there, grinning like a wolf in a holiday sweater and his wife, Marnie, standing next to him holding two large bottles of wine.
“Well, well,” Ryan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We didn’t mean to interrupt the newlyweds.”
Frankie’s cheeks flush my favorite shade, and I’m pretty sure mine match, at least what you can see under my beard. I clear my throat, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my jaw. “Guess you caught us under the mistletoe.”
Ryan smirks. “How convenient.”
As he steps inside, stomping the snow from his boots, Frankie and I exchange a look—it’s go time.
But I can still taste her on my lips.
And all I can think is, pretending just got a whole lot more complicated in more ways than one.
CHAPTER 9
Frankie
Ryan and Marnie make themselves at home fast. Too fast. And I’m surprised by the protectivness I feel for a cabin that isn’t even mine. We’ve let the wolf in the door, and I’m not about to drop my guard to ensure that Cole gets to keep his home, his mountain.
After the initial round of hellos and drinks, we all end up in the living room, sittin awkwardly like contestants in some bizarre holiday game show. The air feels tight enough to snap.
“How was the drive?” Cole asks.
“Snowy,” Ryan answers.
