She narrowed her eyes. “Not man enough to handle it dark and spicy, I guess?”
That earned her a sharp laugh. “You’d be surprised. Just not a fan of fancy chocolate.”
“Oh really? I bet I can change that. Let me guess your favorite. I’m freakishly good at it.”
“Oh yeah? What do you peg me as?”
Cassidy bit her bottom lip thoughtfully and eyed Liam up and down.Focus on your chocolate spidey senses, she reminded herself.Do not picture this gorgeous man naked and standing between your?—
“You good there?” He cocked an eyebrow.
She snapped her head up. “Perfect. Never better. Sometimes it just takes a minute. The chocolate goddess and all…” Cassidy marched confidently over to the display case and plucked out a single square of milk chocolate sprinkled with sea salt. She was pretty sure this would do the trick. “Here, try this.”
Liam stepped forward. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he took the chocolate, brushing her fingers in the process, sending a zing of heat up her arm.
He bit into it, chewed, andshrugged. “It’s fine.”
Cassidy’s mouth fell open. “Fine? That chocolate won me a Parisian chocolatier award!”
She wasn’t just offended—she was personally attacked. That chocolate was blood, sweat, and hours of tempering perfection, and this flannel-wrapped farm boy had reduced it to “fine”?
Liam wiped his thumb across his lower lip, where a fleck of chocolate had caught, completely unbothered. “Huh. Maybe it’s a French thing.”
Indignation sparked in her chest.Who is this man?Her first instinct had been right: He was definitely a psycho.
Then he added, “I told you, I’m not a fancy kind of guy. You’d probably be better off handing me a Snickers,” and Cassidy’s patience snapped.
“A Snickers? ASnickers?” she repeated, her voice rising. She planted her hand on her hip, glaring at him. “Are you kidding me right now?”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile, dark eyes steady and infuriating. “Just not into luxury chocolate. Never saw the point. Not in chocolate, and not in Christmas either.”
She was actually scowling at this point. She couldn’t help it. “I bet you thinkDie Hardis a Christmas movie!”
“Only one I like. Anyway, what’s that got to do with anything? Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! How else are you supposed to plan your Christmas movie checklist?” She looked at him like this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Christmas movie checklist.” He repeated it flatly, as if tasting words he wasn’t sure he liked.
“You don’t have one?” she asked, horrified.
“You do?” He raised a brow, unimpressed.
“Obviously. Tonight isThe Santa Clause—parts one and two. Tomorrow isHome Alone.”
“Yeah…” He shook his head. “Like I said, I’m not really into Christmas. Hate it, actually.” His jaw tightened, daring her to comment.
“Hate it?” She threw her hands up. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” His voice was low, edged. “Last time I checked.”
To Cassidy, Christmas had always been special, but even more so after the accident that took her parents’ lives. It was the one thing that still held magic after everything she’d lost. Lights twinkling through tears. The smell of Grand-maman’s cocoa when she brought it to her in a flask, in a quiet hospital room. A nurse who made her a handmade stocking.
Christmas had been her lifeline. Her anchor.
Cassidy swallowed that emotion down and gave him a mock glare instead. “That’s basically blasphemy in Maple Falls, you know.”
His eyes softened just slightly, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Whatever you say, Sugarplum.”
