“I think he’s going to be a pain in my ass,” Cassidy corrected, ignoring the way her cheeks warmed. “Anyway, I’m here to launch my shop and win this competition, not get distracted by a guy with broody eyes.”
“Whatever you say.” Zoe lifted her mug in a toast.
Cassidy narrowed her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t start.”
But the truth was, even as she said it,she couldn’t stop fantasizing about Liam. She’d thought about him all through the early hours of this morning, as she lay wide awake in bed after he’d helped her get back inside. He’d made for some very interesting thoughts indeed.
She supposed that’s what you got when you took a year off of men.
No matter how many times she scolded herself, her mind kept drifting. Back to the way Liam had looked standing in the snow, boots planted wide, jaw set, looking every inch the grumpy lumberjack.
And now she couldn’t stop picturing him hauling wood through the forest, flannel shirt rolled up to reveal forearms that could probably split logs without an axe. Sweat beading at his collarbone, those stormy eyes locking on her as he set down the bundle. Reaching for her, pressing her back against a pine, his rough hands on her hips. His mouth taking hers with the same quiet intensity he seemed to carry in everything he did.
In her mind, his fingers would find the button of her jeans, flicking it open with practiced ease, and she’d arch into him, the cold pine at her back contrasting with the heat of his body, giving him access.
Fantasy Liam wasn’t slow or patient.
His rough, callused fingers would slip under the waistband of her panties, finding her with a sure touch, stroking exactly where she needed it most—where only she knew she liked it, until now.
She imagined gasping against his mouth, her hands tangling in his messy hair as he pressed her harder into the tree, taking control, giving her everything she hadn’t even known she’d been craving during her year off men.
And in that secret, wicked daydream, Cassidy didn’t care about the Christmas Light-Up Display Competition, or her vow to go a whole year with no men.
All she wanted for Christmas was Liam.
As if he could sense her desire, the man himself walked in.
She froze, the bell above the door chiming as if to mock her. Liam stood there in jeans and a long thermal shirt, snow dusting his boots, those storm-cloud eyes taking in everything. Including her.
Zoe, catching the shift in the air, made a quick excuse and ducked into the back kitchen.
Cassidy forced herself to move, her cheeks flaming, her pulse throbbing in places she’d rather not acknowledge. She propped a hand on the counter and it slipped a little, trying and failing to look casual. “Scoping out the competition, are we?”
Liam’s gaze flicked over her, slow and infuriatingly unreadable. “Please. Like I’m worried.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You should be.”
He stepped closer, and the air snapped between them. “That so?”
“Mm-hmm.” She swallowed, refusing to back down. “Your grinch energy won’t save you when the lights go up and the cocoa starts flowing.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but his mouth curved, just barely. “You think you’re tough, don’t you, Sugarplum?”
She lifted her chin, ignoring the warmth curling low in her belly. “Tough enough to beat you.”
Liam smirked, stepping even closer, close enough that she could smell the cold air and cedar clinging to him, close enough that her brain stuttered. “I’m not the one who should be worried about getting beaten.”
“Oh, you’ll see.” She jabbed a finger at his chest, regretting it the second her finger met warm, hard muscle beneath the thermal. “I’ve been dreaming about this—Maple Falls, my shop, having the best Christmas window display ever—since I was a kid. You don’t stand a chance. You’re going down.”
His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before sliding back up. “Dreaming about me going down, huh?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.” His smirk was pure trouble.
She glared at him. “Can I get you anything?” She turned, flipping a braid over her shoulder as she moved behind the cocoa bar. “I’ve got a spiced French hot cocoa that’sheavenly, but maybe that’s too much holiday spirit for you.”
His eyes flicked to the simmering pot, then back to her. “I’ll pass. Just wanted to come and congratulate you on your big opening day, neighborly soul that I am.”
