"Sure you will," I mutter, and he winks at me.
We mount our machines—Emily on her own, Bash and I sharing one. I settle in front of him, his solid warmth at my back as he reaches around me to grasp the handlebars.
"Ready?" His voice is low in my ear.
"As I'll ever be."
The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and I grip the handlebars alongside Bash's gloved hands. Shaylee leads the way, with Emily close behind, clearly itching to open the throttle.
As we start moving, following the trail that winds through snow-laden trees, Bash leans forward to murmur, "Relax. I've got you."
I lean back against him, letting my body sync with his as we navigate the twists and turns. The forest is magical—pristine white snow, trees heavy with winter's burden, occasional glimpses of breathtaking mountain vistas. We speed up on straightaways, the rush exhilarating as snow flies up around us.
At a scenic overlook, Shaylee signals for us to stop. The view is spectacular—jagged peaks stretching to the horizon, valleys blanketed in white, the town of Aspen a tiny cluster of lights in the distance.
"Not bad, right?" Bash says, dismounting and offering me a hand.
"It's incredible." I accept his help, my legs a bit wobbly from the vibration of the machine.
Emily bounces over, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. "This is way better than skiing! No lift lines, no snooty people judging your technique." She glances meaningfully in the direction we last saw Ethan and Olivia.
"Speaking of tradition," she continues with a sly smile, "have you two put any thought into your mistletoe placement? Mom asked me to make sure you've picked a spot."
I groan. The Mistletoe Challenge—another Whitaker family tradition. Every couple has to hang mistletoe somewhere on the property and catch another couple unaware.
"I have something in mind," Bash says, surprising me.
"Oh?" I turn to him.
He grins, that confident, mischievous smile that first drew me to him at the bar. "But it's only for Charlie and me to know."
Emily raises an eyebrow. "Mysterious. I like it." She pulls out her phone to snap photos of the view. "Just make sure it's somewhere good. Ethan and Olivia already claimed the kitchen doorway, which is boringly predictable."
"Trust me," Bash says, his eyes never leaving mine. "What I have planned is anything but predictable."
The intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. Whatever game we started playing when he agreed to be my fake boyfriend, the rules have changed. This isn't about making Ethan jealous anymore.
This is about us—messy, complicated, terrifying, and thrilling.
"Ready for the next stretch?" Shaylee calls. "It gets a bit more challenging from here!"
Bash offers his hand again as we return to our snowmobile. "What do you say, Shortcake? Ready for a challenge?"
The back patio glows with string lights and the warmth of the fire pit, battling the crisp mountain air. We're all gathered around the massive wooden table my dad built himself three summers ago, waiting for dinner. Mom's chicken parm and garlic knots are worth any wait, though the rumbling in my stomach suggests patience isn't my strong suit tonight.
Dad refills wine glasses while Emily regales everyone with tales of our snowmobiling adventure, complete with dramatic reenactments of my near-wipeout on a particularly sharp turn.
"If Bash hadn't been right there with his reflexes, Charlie would've been eating snow for lunch," she concludes with a flourish.
"Where is Sebastian?" Mom asks, glancing around as if he might be hiding behind one of the patio columns.
I shrug, trying to keep my expression neutral. "He said he needed to grab something from inside"
"Those two are up to something," Emily stage-whispers to the table at large. "I'd bet my favorite pair of boots on it."
"Speaking of being up to something," Mom says, "have all the couples placed their mistletoe yet? The challenge officially begins after dinner."
The Mistletoe Challenge—a ridiculous tradition my parents started when Emily and I were in our twenties. Each couple hangs mistletoe somewhere on the property, then tries to catch other couples under their sprig. First couple to catch another wins a bottle of expensive champagne and year-long bragging rights.
