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Shame? I’m celebrating. How is sexy Jason? Is he making you reconsider dating again? You haven’t been with anyone since that cheat Darren. Why do you always pick guys who are so obviously wrong for you?

Her face burned.

She hadn’t been entirely honest with Chloe, mostly because she was known to spill secrets after one too many glasses of wine.

Izzy only had one big secret and she had no intention of sharing it.

As for her question about why Izzy picked guys who were wrong for her—that was far too complicated a question to be answered in a message. It didn’t help that, like most people of her generation, she met everyone via dating apps. She found it soulless and exhausting, like an endless round of job interviews when you didn’t really want the job in question. It was no more exciting than ordering takeout. Sometimes she looked at couples walking hand in hand and wondered how on earth they’d managed to meet each other in this busy, complicated world. Romances would have you believe there were “meet-cutes” round every corner, but the last man she’d accidentally collided with hadn’t laughed and asked for her number as he’d waved away her apology for spilling coffee all over him. He’d sworn at her and threatened to send her his dry-cleaning bill.

And even if she had met someone, it wouldn’t have made a difference. She wasn’t good at relationships. Darren’s words still echoed in her head. You’re not capable of commitment. You broke my heart, Izzy. I wish I’d never met you.

Those words had settled inside her. Yes, he was the one who had cheated, but she’d hurt him, and she didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else, particularly not someone like Jason. Jason was an all-around good guy. He was the sort who did everything well, and that probably included relationships. He didn’t need someone like her messing up his life.

She’d given up on dating apps (and therefore also relationships) for the time being, but if she admitted as much to Chloe, she’d be forced to talk about something she didn’t want to talk about.

Checking quickly that Jason was still in conversation with their client, Izzy gave the response that was expected. Jason still sexy last time I looked—which was five seconds ago. With luck we’ll be caught in a snowdrift on the way home and he’ll be forced to warm my naked body with his. He’s so hot he’d probably melt all the snow.

She pressed Send on the message.

Jason’s phone buzzed and she saw him reach for it at the same moment Chloe messaged her back.

You sent that last message to the whole group! Delete! Delete!

What? No, surely not. That couldn’t be right.

Her heart rate accelerated. Panic made her hands slippery on the phone and it took her a few precious seconds to see that she had indeed sent that message to the whole work loop rather than Chloe as intended.

No! Please no.

Face burning, she hit “delete for everyone” and hoped that most people were too busy navigating their way home in a snowstorm to read their messages.

But what if someone had read it? What if Jason had read it? That would have been the very worst scenario, not least because—

She almost moaned aloud. The thought of it made her want to dive into the nearest snowdrift.

She tried to calm herself. Yes, he’d looked at his phone, but he could have been reading the messages about Christmas drinks.

Please let him have been reading the messages about Christmas drinks.

Turning away to hide her flaming face, she packed the last of her bags and then sneaked a glance at him.

“Happy holidays,” he said to the client. “We should get on the road, or we’ll be stuck in a snowdrift.”

Stuck in a snowdrift?

Was his use of that phrase a coincidence or was he subtly letting her know he’d read the message that wasn’t intended for him?

She suppressed a whimper and for a moment wished she’d brought her own car. But she hadn’t, which meant she was going to be trapped with Jason for the whole drive back to Boston. Which, in this weather, could take a while.

Awkward didn’t begin to describe it.

This was all her boss’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on her taking this trip to the client’s house this close to Christmas, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She’d be at home, safe and warm and unpacking boxes she hadn’t yet bothered to unpack in an attempt to make her place look vaguely habitable. She’d be decorating her houseplant and watching Christmas movies and trying not to compare those happy, smiling people and their perfect candy-cane lives with her empty, Santa-free, hug-free existence. It was the only time of year she hated her life.

Still, at least the roads would be empty for their journey.

No one else would be mad enough to be travelling in this weather.

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