“I’m sure I’m not,” I said, heat crawling up my neck.
“Because it didn’t mean anything.” His brows lifted.
“Exactly.”
He tilted his head. “Then why’s it matter if the song’s gone?”
I glared at him. “You are such a—”
“Charmer? Delight?”
“Menace.”
He grinned, leaning one arm on the jukebox beside me. “You say that like it’s new information.”
“I’m serious, Drew.”
“So am I.” His voice dropped lower, the teasing giving way to something else—something rougher, closer. “You keep saying none of it mattered. That it was a mistake. But every time you look at me, Mel, you get that same look you did that night.”
My throat went dry. “What look?”
He didn’t hesitate. “The one that says you want to kiss me, but you’re already mad about it.”
I tried to laugh it off. “You’re delusional.”
“Probably,” he said, smiling. “But you’re blushing again, so…”
“I’mcold,” I said, even though my skin was burning.
He leaned closer, just enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the faint trace of pine and soap and whiskey that clung to his shirt.
“Right,” he said softly. “Freezing.”
I stepped back before I did something stupid, like grab his shirt and close that stupid inch of space between us. “You should get back to work. People are waiting.”
He straightened, that grin still there but softer now. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Can’t help it. You make it sound like a challenge.”
He sauntered back to the bar, all confidence and easy charm, and the locals practically melted around him. Lydia shot me a look from behind the counter that screamedI told you so.I ignored her and jabbed the jukebox buttons until something non-holiday played like Fleetwood Mac, maybe. Something with an edge.
But when the first notes came through the speakers, my stomach dropped.
Notthatsong. But close enough.
And when Drew looked over his shoulder, his smirk told me he knew it.
I turned away, pretending to study the snow falling outside, even though my reflection in the glass betrayed me with my pinkcheeks, wild hair, and a damn piece of tinsel still clinging to my shoulder.
He called out over the music, voice full of that lazy amusement that always got under my skin. “Hey, Mel?”
“What?”
“Maybe next round of songs, I’ll add our old one back in.”
“Don’t you dare.”
