Page 8 of My Sweetart Holidate

Doubtful.

“This is couple number seven,” Maggie explains to the woman. “I thought you two would be out snowshoeing with the rest of the group?” That question is directed mostly to me, as if I didn’t get here as fast as I fucking could. Grandma Olive decided she needed to follow me into town so I wouldn’t get any ideas about detours or turning around.

“Just waiting on Kash to put on his shoes.” Charlotte’s chipper tone reminds me why this is a bad idea. My palms grow sweaty. The air feels thicker in my lungs. She’s looking for a partner. A relationship. A committed man. I can’t be any of those things. Not with her. Not with anyone. But running now would be really bad for my sister’s comeback plan.

I reach for the pair I abandoned on a nearby chair earlier and lift them as evidence. “I prefer to put mine on outside. Like a real Alaskan.” I turn to Charlotte, suddenly ready to get the hell away from the reporter. If she starts asking questions about a possible future and all that bullshit, I might blow my cover. I take Charlotte’s hand in mine. “Ready,sweetheart?”

The magazine woman leans closer to my sister and mumbles something about nicknames as I practically yank Charlotte out the door.

“Who was that?” she asks once we’re clear of both double doors.

“Beats me.”

“An ex-girlfriend?”

I sputter a laugh at the ridiculousness of that idea. “You think—”

“It was a joke.” She rolls those pretty hazel eyes. “Reporters make you nervous or something?” She leans closer as an elderly couple approaches. I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t recognize them. IfIdon’t blow my cover, any local might. Perks of small town living. I’m not sure how she would feel, finding out I’m the organizer’s brother. Voice lowered, Charlotte asks, “Are you in hiding? Are you in witness protection? Oh wait, don’t answer that. You can’t, right?”

It takes a few seconds to realize Charlotte is teasing me again, and I finally relax. “I’m not big on chivalry,” I lie, securing my snowshoes. “Don’t think I won’t push you into a snowbank.”

“Have to catch me first!” The quick crunch of snow echoes as she hurries toward the trail marker, leaving me behind to stare after her retreating ass. It’s a very nice ass. I’d love to get my hands on it. My dick twitches, agreeing.

I take my time tightening my shoes. Living in a remote area with high snowfall has made snowshoes a regular part of my life. It’s easy to keep my strides quick and deliberate. Charlotte, though cute as hell with the way she uses her whole body to move, is wasting a lot of energy. It doesn’t take long before I’m on her tail.

She squeals playfully, picking up her pace.

I move faster. Stealthier.

“You wouldn’treallyshove me in a snowbank, would you?” She glances around nervously at the many snowdrifts surrounding the edge of the trailhead, her pace slowing as if surrendering.

I grab her hand, spinning her around. She wobbles, but I catch her around the waist to steady her. “I think youwantme to.”

Those hazel eyes are filled with mischief, the hollow of her throat fluttering with… desire? “Maybe.”

“I’m not going to push you—”

She catches me off guard, shoving at my chest until I tumble backwards. My hand still around her waist, I take her down with me. I land on my back with Charlotte on my chest, a cloud of puffy white snow erupting around us. The sound of her laughter does something to me. I feel the layers of ice I’ve kept around my heart start to thaw.

“Another surprise,” I murmur, fully aware how close her glossy lips are to mine. Done with resisting, I reach one gloved hand to her cheek, snowflakes dusting her soft skin, and draw her mouth to mine. I’ve thought of nothing but this kiss since I watched her sip that first whiskey sour last night. A night of lust-filled dreams played out this scenario in several different ways. But not one of them prepared me for how potent this first kiss would be.

Our mouths move together as if they’ve always known one another. Our tongues slide in perfect rhythm. She tastes of hot chocolate and cherry lip gloss. Charlotte moans softly as I devour her pretty mouth. My body becomes acutely aware of every place we touch. In about three point two seconds, her upper thigh will discover just how badly I wanted to give in to temptation last night.

It takes incredible effort to break apart the kiss and toss her gently into the snowbank next to me. Her laughter fills the air, thawing another layer of ice inside me. I should be panicked. I should be hopping to my feet, ready to run far away from what’s blossoming between us. This was supposed to be a favor. Nothing more. I barely know this woman.

How can she have such a powerful effect on me?

Why am I so fucking calm about it?

Charlotte is the first to get to her feet. She offers her hand, but before I can take it, pulls it back. “You’re not going to yank me back down, are you?” Her playful expression is like a dare. The falling snowflakes make her eyes twinkle. A man could fallhard.

Why the hell does she need a professional matchmaker? Surely, she has dozens of prospects back at home. The thought causes a surge of jealousy in my chest. The thought of another man touching my Cookie Monster is too much.

“Don’t want to miss the grand finale at the end of the trail, do you?” I get to my feet and start down the snow-packed, tree-covered path, desperately in need of some physical exertion to calm certain areas of my body the hell down. I’m not thinking straight. “Heard there’s a bunch of heart-shaped crap and some selfie contraption.”Thanks Grandma Olive.“Real romantic shit.”

“Shouldn’t you be running the other way?” she calls after me, doing her best to catch up.

“Very funny, Cookie Monster.” Except I’m not laughing because a single thought nags at me. Who the hell wassupposedto be her match?

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