During a lull in the action, she makes her way to me, her eyes straying to the place I stood at the start of the competition—right where Rowan kissed me.
“Okay, but when, exactly, were you going to tell us aboutthat?” she asks, sliding up beside me, her gaze flicking toward Rowan.
Think fast. “About what?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound breezy, even though I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. What the hell do I tell my friends? That it’s fake, or kind of real? That it’s not entirely pretend, but it is entirely temporary?
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 thatwon’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’tI’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. Icantake 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 doessomedaysuddenly 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.
