“Grinch? I thought I was a sexy lumberjack.” Liam cracked a smile, those dimples doing dangerous things to her resolve.
“Fine, you’re a sexy grinch-lumberjack who drives me crazy, but I’m trying to ignore you so I can focus on everything else.”
As much as she wanted to throw her vow and caution—and her clothes—to the wind, she couldn’t. Not after what had happened with Jean-Paul. Not after letting her guard down and being shattered by someone who’d made promises with his lips and broken them with his actions. She wouldn’t let that happen again. She was smarter now. Safer.
Even if her body was screaming otherwise.
Cassidy bent to grab a game off the bottom shelf, fully aware of Liam watching her. When she stood, she caught the way his throat visibly swallowed, drinking her in.
They weren’t touching, but the air between them practically sparked.
Slow, she reminded herself.Take things slow.
God help her. Because if he looked at her like that again, she wasn’t sure she’d make it out of this room without breaking the vow she’d sworn she’d keep until New Year’s Day.
TWENTY-TWO
LIAM
Sunday, December 7th
Liam was still replaying the conversation with Cassidy after lunch as she sat beside him, curled up on the couch watching a Christmas movie, Muff at their feet. They’d decided to hold off on the board games for now and just relax before lunch. Liam watched as a log popped and cracked in the fireplace. In the corner, the tree glowed softly. The miniature multicolored lights reflected off the glass bulbs, creating a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls. The scent of cinnamon and citrus from the simmering pot on the stove drifted into the living room, mixing with the woodsmoke from the fire, making the farmhouse feel even cozier.
Liam felt like he was in high school again on winter break, all his friends piled into the living room, everyone finding a spot on the floor or the couch while a giant bowl of buttery popcorn made its way around.
Even Jackson had joined them. He’d come down from the loft for lunch; his usual guarded expression was loosening as Zoe handed him a mug of cider and teased him about his favorite band. When they moved to the living room, for a few minutesJackson stayed, leaning against the wall near the fireplace as Zoe chatted about her plans for her flower shop’s light-up event and how she’d love his help moving a delivery. Liam caught the way Jackson’s shoulders eased, the lines around his eyes softening in the warm glow of the fire, as if Zoe’s gentle energy made it easier for him to be there.
Cassidy looked perfectly at home, too. She was wearing a pair of his sister’s sweatpants and his old high school sweatshirt—the faded blue one with the hawk mascot and stretched-out collar. The sweatshirt swallowed her whole, the hem coming down to her knees and the sleeves past her knuckles, but she seemed to love it, wrapping her arms around herself like it was her favorite blanket.
She shifted slightly, the edge of her knee brushing his thigh. It wasn’t intentional—she was just reaching for the blanket—but Liam felt it. It was like a slow, steady pull in his core. He wanted to lean in, rest his arm around her shoulders, pull her just a little closer, but he didn’t. The scene from the barn flashed before his eyes. Yeah, he wanted to pull her closer and then some.
Cassidy kept glancing over at him. Liam thought she was checking to see how he was handling all the holiday cheer, if he was doing okay. But truth be told, he wasn’t really thinking about the movie.
No, he was thinking about how she’d told him—pretty bluntly and boldly, with some serious holiday innuendo—just how attracted she was to him. And yet, instead of acting on that attraction, she wanted to take it slow.
That should’ve been a relief. It should’ve made things easier. Safer.
But it didn’t.
Because now Liam knew two things for sure: One, Cassidy wanted him. And two, she wasn’t in it for a fling.
And the problem? Neither was he.
That realization scared the hell out of him.
He tried to walk it back. Tried to convince himself he wasn’t looking for anything serious. That she was just a distraction. That she was new. That there was just something about her soft blonde hair and maybe that magical hot cocoa of hers that had thrown him off.
But that was a lie.
He’d been running from anything serious for four years, and now he was caught in an aching space between desire and fear. He wanted to know her, all of her secrets and her quirks and her stories from Paris, her memories of the small town nearby where she’d grown up. And he wanted to kiss her again. Not just a taste. Not fast and manic, pressed in the corner of the barn. No, he wanted to go slow. Find what made her shiver with desire. What made her sigh and moan and melt into him. He wanted to feel her body quake around him, to hear the way she said his name when she shattered.
To lose himself in the rhythm of her body, find something real and vulnerable, both of them cracked wide open. Something he thought he’d lost for good.
After, he’d want to hold her. He’d pull her against his chest, wrap the blanket around them both, and press a kiss to her temple. He’d feel her breath slow, her body soften, and he’d tuck her even closer like he could shield her from the world.
That wasn’t a fling, it was real, and it was big. And that scared him.
If he had any sense, he’d say something tonight. Draw a line. Tell her that they shouldn’t just take things slow; they should stop altogether. He could even picture himself doing it. They’d walk out into the snow, and he’d tell her how great he thought she was, but that he didn’t want to wreck their friendship. He knew that’s what he should do. Park her in the friend zone and never look back.
