Page 13 of Christmas in Vines

“No.” He sounded panicked while his back met a lamppost.

Trapped, I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Yes, we are doing this, and it starts tonight.”

“With what?” he groaned, “I thought we were just going to get hot chocolate?”

“New deal,” I replied. “From now on, for the next three weeks, we’re going to do everything and anything Christmas. And for New Year's Night…”

His brows shot up at my trailed-off words, and his face turned wicked. “What’s going to happen New Year's Night? Are you telling me, teasing me, that we might start with abang?”

The pun was obvious. “You’re going to have to earn that.”

“So, can I use this Christmas-y stuff to earn that?” he asked slyly.

“That’s all you got from that?” I laughed. “Men, I tell you. You all have a one-track mind.”

As I turned away, he grabbed my arm—not too hard—and turned me back to him, his hand sliding up my arms and leaving delicious streaks of heat in its wake. My eyes lifted to his blue ones, which were still holding me in that intense gaze, and a million pornographic images flooded my brain of that beard scratching the insides of my thighs while I moaned and twisted in white sheets, threading my fingers through his silky hair.

He didn’t kiss me, but he didn’t have to; his gaze alone made me shiver to the tips of my toes. I cleared the thickness in my throat, feeling heat everywhere in my body.

A corner of his lips lifted. “Are you cold?”

“No,” I replied. “But I think you know why I’m shivering. Stop looking at me like that. It’s… lethal.”

“Lethal, huh,” his voice was warm and husky, mesmerizing too. His touch, a warm sear on the back of my hand. “But you’re to blame for that too. You do know you’re gorgeous, right.”

I was glad my hair was down because I was sure I was blushing right up to the tips of my ears. “Flattery will not let you slip away. Look around us. It's not busy now, but soon enough, this large square will be a bustling Christmas bazaar. There will be craft beer and cider stalls, roasted chestnuts, and sticky sweets. People will gather here on Christmas Eve, huddled in their blankets and watching a Nativity Play on a stage they’ll make up over there.”

Tyler nodded, and a tuft of his dark hair escaped his beanie. “So, if I agree to this do-over, where do we start?”

“Over there,” I nodded to a cart of hot chocolate and cocoa. “We have hot chocolate and pretzels, and then we’re going to help the guys set up the tree,” I said.

Tyler eyed me, “You meanIwill be helping whileyousit and watch.”

I smiled innocently. “Remember that when we go to the farms and chop our tree for my family’s house.”

We went to the stall, and curiosity gnawed at me while waiting for our hot chocolate. Tyler was so close I could smell his cologne and the body wash. It didn’t help when he dropped a hand to the small of my back—like an afterthought—to keep me close to him.

As we stood side-by-side, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but him. Not the beauty of the star-lit sky or the strings of Christmas lights that had been stretched across the lines of the stall. The tantalizing scent of rich, dark chocolate and crushed peppermint was a footnote to my senses, just as the constant buzz of merriment was going on all around me.

He had come into my life like a whirlwind, and in the short time we’d been near each other, it never crossed my mind he might have someone. Helping me out that night was one thing, but kissing me after that was another.

I knew he was a playboy, but I didn’t think he would do that to me, especially when I’d told him about Maxwell’s infidelities. Now, that possibility caused my heart to spin in my head.

“Willow?”

My head snapped up. “Hm?”

“Your chocolate?”

I realized we were at the front of the cart and shook my head. “Mocha with cinnamon, please.”

“I’ll take mine with peppermint,” Tyler said slyly. “As it should be. And two pretzels, thank you.”

The lady laughed. “It’s an old age debate. Believe me, sir, if you want to make your girlfriend happy, when it comes along, nod and smile.”

My eyes snapped to him at the girlfriend's remark, but Tyler didn’t seem interested in correcting her. “I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said dryly. “I’m a stubborn ass.”

The lady laughed, and I nudged him. “I’m worse.”

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