Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
She stares at me, sharp and amused. “About you and the guy who gave you that church tongue you and Sabrina were talking about.”
“Oh. That,” I say, buying some time.
“Yes. That temporary lapse of reason,” she says, pointedly using my words from the day I told them about our mistletoe kiss. She sketches air quotes. “That thing that won’t happen again.”
A flush crawls up my neck. Leighton’s a good friend. But if Rowan’s not telling his teammates, am I supposed to tell my besties?
“He’s no longer a client,” I say quickly, because that’s important. “And it’s not a big deal.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I scramble for something else to say. Anything that isn’t I’m fake-dating my brother’s best friend and kind of falling for him.
“We’re just going to the gala together. That’s all.” It’s true enough, even though I hate lying to my friends.
“Right. Him giving you a kiss on the cheek looks like it’s just about the gala. More like he wants to unwrap you later.”
My cheeks burn. I raise a hand to my face, as if I can rub off the glow and the wish to be unwrapped. But I can’t. Might as well lean in. “Well, he gives good mistletoe kisses. And cheek kisses.”
“And other ones, too, I hope,” she says with a naughty glint in her eye.
So do I.
But I can’t entertain those thoughts. At least, not right now. I can take advantage of my fake girlfriend role. I no longer need to sneak glances at him. I can stare freely—and shamelessly—at Rowan.
I indulge.
It’s thirty-eight degrees, and the man is wearing a T-shirt. I can’t tell what’s on it, but I can definitely enjoy the view of those biceps. Especially since he’s giving good eye candy right now. He pumps a fist each time JJ or Oliver catches another candy cane.
“That’s how we do it,” he says encouragingly.
A soft smile tugs at my lips. I can definitely see him as a coach someday—strong, steady, and passionate in that quietly intense way. Down the road, he could lead a team of young players, shape a new generation.
And that…shouldn’t make my heart do what it just did. Speed up. Beat so fast I can hear it, faster than it did after I sledded down the mountain.
We said this fake-dating would end. That our secret sexy times would be no-strings.
So why does someday suddenly feel like something I want with him?
I tug off my red beanie, shake out my hair, and recalibrate to the here and now.
A little later, we’re waiting for the results at the bottom of the hill, when Mayor Bumblefritz brings the megaphone to her mouth and says, “And now, the winners of the combo sledding and candy cane fishing competition are…the Sugar Plum Ladies in third.”
We group-hug so hard.
“The Sleigh Beards in second place.”
Wesley smacks palms with his teammates.
“The Ice Queens in first!”
Sabrina, Phillipa, and Fable jump up and down in the snow.
Rowan’s team didn’t even place. My heart sinks a little. I know he wanted to do well. I’m not even sure I can gloat. That feels mean. Besides, it would be wrong to do that in front of Mia when the three of us get together later. I don’t want to set a bad example for her. Especially since I’m really looking forward to that outing.
Helping choose a tree for the two of them feels like a way to make up—maybe to the universe—for my failure as a matchmaker. I might not have been successful at finding Rowan the one, but at least the man is changing.
He’s softening on the holiday. More than a week ago, he told me he didn’t just dislike mistletoe because it’s toxic to pets. He disliked it because he hates Christmas.
Now, here in Evergreen Falls, he’s letting in some Christmas cheer—even if it’s only to make his daughter happy.
That feels like it could maybe, possibly, be down to me.
It’s a hopeful, dangerous thought. Because if I’m not careful, I’ll forget this is fake.
35
DID YOU JUST NAME US AFTER HOLIDAY FLICKS?
ISLA
But Rowan wants to gloat. About me. “Look at you. Giving me a run for my money in the coaching department,” he says when we arrive at the Evergreen Falls Christmas Tree Farm as the sun is dipping lower in the sky.
“When you’re good, you’re good,” I say, blowing on my red fingernails as we head to the cottage with the welcome sign and hours on the door.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but it turns out you’re quite the coach,” he adds.
“You should accept defeat now, Dad,” Mia says, darting past a blue spruce.
Rowan scoffs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m just being honest. This is Isla’s home turf. You, of all people, should know about the home ice advantage,” Mia says.
Rowan stares wide-eyed at his daughter. “Where is the family loyalty? Where is the devotion?”