“What are you wearing?” I ask, sniffing toward his neck. It’s spicy with a hint of pine, and for some reason, it has me acting like a dog in fucking heat. My nipples tingle with desire I haven’t felt in ages.
“You like it, huh?” he asks in a tone that is beyond friendly.
I meet his gaze, mildly aware that our shoulders are pressed together, creating enough heat between us to melt the snow outside. There’s no mistaking the desire lingering in his whiskey gaze now. Not when the intense look sends a zing of pleasure straight between my legs.
Shit.
Am I…attractedto Thatcher Banks? This could be problematic.
CHAPTER 4
Thatcher
“You know what might’ve been nice?” Blaire asks, teeth chattering as we make a run for one of the ATVs waiting outside the brewery.
Staying home and avoiding this stupid holiday?But of course I don’t say that out loud, because this is now apparentlymyidea.
I make a mental note to kill my sister the next time I talk to her. When she suggested taking Blaire to the Cupid’s Crawl, she failed to mention that she’d signed us up as contestants. Or that we’d be handcuffed together until we completed all the many holiday-themed activities required.
“What’s that?” I ask, holding the door open so Blaire can crawl into the backseat of the covered ATV.
“Asking us if we wanted to put on our coatsbeforethe handcuffs went on.”
“I think she knew you were a flight risk,” I say, sliding in next to her, pretending I’m not affected by that intoxicating body spray Blaire applied after her shower. I’m tempted to bury my nose in her wavy blonde hair to find out, but I resist the urge I’d have a hard time explaining. Instead, I discover a folded blanket and spread it over our laps.
“Right, because you blindsided me.”
“Would you have left the house if I told you what we were really doing?”
She bites down on her bottom lip, looking away. “No, probably not.”
“This won’t be so bad,” I say, trying to sound like I mean it. There’s not a single thing on this damn postcard that sounds the least bit fun to me. It sounds like crowds, over-commercialized romance, and a ton of attention I don’t want. I’m certain when I head back to work Monday, the guys will give me an endless amount of shit for participating in something I claimed so much disdain for right before I clocked out Friday.
A couple of quick blocks later, the ATV stops outside a little shop calledBaked by Andie. I let out a quiet sigh, wishing I was anywhere else. Next year, I might actually leave town over Valentine’s Day. I’d like to see Raelyn rope me into something against my will then. Theonlybright side to this whole thing is that if I have to be handcuffed to another woman, at least it’s someone as familiar as Blaire Sutton—my very first crush.
Butnotmy first kiss. I shove the bitter memory away as Blaire impatiently pushes at my shoulder.
“What are you waiting for? Did you forget we have a competition to win?”
The second her boot-clad feet hit pavement, she tugs me inside, straight toward one of the several little tables markedCupid’s Crawl.
“Welcome!” Andie Jensen, the owner greets.
“Where are the strawberries?” I ask, glancing at the empty tables. Apparently, we’re the first couple to choose this event because I don’t see a strawberry in sight.
“Right here,” Harley Greer says, carrying a tray with four fresh strawberries to our table.
“I thought we were supposed to feed chocolate dipped strawberries to each other,” Blaire asks Andie.
“That’s right.”
“Where’s the chocolate?”
Another employee appears with a bowl of melted chocolate in her oven-mitt covered hands. “It’s fresh off the stove, so be careful.”
“Wehave to dip them?” I ask.
“Yes,” Andie says. “You have to successfully dip at least two strawberries, using only your cuffed hands. While the chocolate sets, you ask each other questions.”
