I chew on the inside of my cheek. I don’t really care about giving this man my name but it’s become a game, a game I want to play.
“I’ll give you my middle name,” I state.
“Fair enough.”
“If you give me your name,” I counteroffer.
He holds out his hand for me to shake, and my body tingles when our skin touches. His large hand covers mine, and my eyes lock with his.
“Noelle,” I purr, my tone far too flirtatious.
“Beckett.” Confidence pours out of this man; his voice is low and gravelly, and I press my legs together when something stirs to life down there. Everything about him is attractive.
“Noelle, how festive.”
“I’m a Christmas Day baby.” His eyes flash with realization. “Your boyfriend dumped you the day before Christmas and it’s your birthday?”
“Uh huh. I told you, I’m having a day.” “What an ass,” Beckett says.
Beckett. Beckett is a hot guy name.
I look down and notice we haven't broken our handshake. When he starts talking, still holding my hand, I don’t pull away. “I caught my girlfriend fucking our cable guy,” he says so matter-of-factly.
My mouth falls open in shock. “You what?”
“Yeah, right there, on our front room rug. An image I won’t be forgetting in a while.”
I place my other hand over his and squeeze. My heart hurts for this man. We may have had a rocky introduction, but he’s hurting like I am, and it’s Christmas. I can find compassion for him. “I’m really sorry,” I say softly.
“It is what it is,” he mutters. “I’ll have to burn the rug when I get home.”
I let out a small chuckle. “I think you should.”
A moment of silence is shared as he looks down at our connected hands. I know I need to move, but I can’t. I like how my hand feels in his. There’s something warm, comforting and safe about this man.
“Well, I think you win,” I say with a chuckle.
“It’s not a competition I wanted to win, but thank you,” he says playfully.
A voice comes over the speakers on the train, and when I glance around the carriage, I notice we have stopped.
Our hands break, and I turn in my seat, slightly embarrassed that I have spent the last several minutes holding this stranger's hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to announce the train will be ending at the next station due to a technical fault on the line caused by the heavy snowfall. Please contact your ticket provider for a refund, and we apologize for any inconvenience caused.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest of my seat. Is this a joke? Am I being punked?
Can this day get any worse?
Chapter Four
Beckett
Twirling the amber liquid in my glass, I scan the bar taking in the happy couples as jealousy bubbles inside of me. That was meant to be me and Casey, celebrating our engagement, toasting to our future, but instead I am drinking alone in some random hotel in a small town, because the universe fucking hates me and left me stranded in the snow.
I toss back the last of my drink and stare into the empty glass. “Can I get you another?” the barmaid asks, her voice warm and sultry.
“Please,” I say bluntly passing her my glass.
