“Two brothers. Both are younger.” Both are a fucking pain in my ass. And fortunately for me, one is snowed in halfway across the country, while the other lives permanently on the road.
“Obviously, you have a dog.” She glances at the back seat quickly, at the empty space usually occupied by a pair of pointed ears and a wet nose in my rearview.
“Stella is mostly retired to a life of naps in front of the fireplace. Over the summer, she comes and helps me with the cattle. Or spends the rest of her life as a lady of leisure, begging for belly scratches and treats. Have you got any pets?”
“No.”
There’s no covering up that touch of wistfulness contained in one single word.
After we’ve bumped our way down the gravel track, I spin the wheel to take us in the direction of the ranch homestead and accommodation. The headlights illuminate a sweep across the signage hanging across the entrance that Henri made years ago. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Almond Milk. Half a sug—” Mia cuts herself off. “Wait, you’re teasing me. You don’t want to know boring details like that.” She fiddles with the ends of her hair, softly laughing as if almost to herself.
It only takes another few seconds, and we’ve pulled up in the parking area outside the main building, glowing against the inky night sky, lit up with fairy lights. The strings of twinkling golden bulbs adorn the peaked roof and wrap around the front entranceway pillars made of stone.
Putting the truck into park, I twist in my seat, studying her long and hard in the dim light.
“Sugar… Let me get one thing real clear, right now. There is absolutely nothing boring about you. I want to knoweverydetail.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Iprobably need to go and let the front desk know I’ve arrived? Sort out my cabin?” I point toward what looks like an office as we walk toward the impressive entrance to the building at the center of the ranch. Even though it’s dark, there are thousands of fairy lights and rows of lanterns everywhere, throwing a magical sweep of lights that illuminate the individual cabins scattered among trees.
Reid shakes his head, striding toward the big wooden doors with something of a familiarity. I’m assuming since he lives so close, he’s probably been here a hundred times. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I called ahead for you.”
“Oh…” My heart does a little flutter. This cowboy is making it very hard to keep remembering that this is allfake, especially after gently grilling me for the last ten minutes while we sat in his truck to ask me all sorts of little questions.
What’s your favorite season?The cusp of fall, when the leaves start turning gold. Have you ever ridden a horse?Notsince I was about twelve. Do you prefer savory or sweet?I would do questionable things for a wheel of brie and salted crackers.
“Ready?” This cowboy is all-consuming as he damn near fills the doorway. With one giant palm resting on the handle, he pauses, extending the other in my direction.
My heart promptly leaps into my throat.
He senses my hesitation, which has nothing to do withnotwanting to touch him, and everything to do with how much it scares me that I want to. Really badly.
“We should probably hold hands. Properly sell this thing, huh?”
“Yeah. Totally.” I squeak.
Reid steals my fingers into his without a second’s pause. Swallowing me up inside his palm in a way that shoots tingling sparks all the way up to my shoulder. He’s so warm, so sturdy, and those working hands of his are doing wicked things to my insides. All from something as innocent as threading our fingers together. It’s intimate, sensual, and somehow, he also makes it feel incredibly natural that he would simply take my hand like this.
It’s enough to leave me a little lightheaded as he guides me behind his enormous figure and steps into what can only be described as a sprawling mountain retreat. One massive room set up for entertaining, with a roaring fireplace spanning the far wall, cozy chairs and couches scattered perfectly for enjoying the view or a night of enjoying the company.
Walking in, the room is abuzz with chatter from the twenty or so guests milling around. The Christmas photo booth is still set up over by a positively ginormous tree dripping with baubles and fairy lights.
As soon as we set foot inside, the attention zeroing in on us is impossible to ignore. It only takes a slightly nervous glance around to notice my ex posing forcouples’ Christmas photos.
A pair of eyes flicker over Reid’s imposing frame, then down to me—my short stature in comparison to the giant figure at my side—then rather comically zero in on the spot where our hands interlink.
Yeah. He never held my hand.
Even if he might have considered doing so, it wouldn’t have ever been like this. Certainly never in public. Definitelynotout in the open where anyone could see us.
Is this what it feels like to have someone willingly standing by my side?
I’ve come to always dread holidays.Alwaysalone.Having Reid next to me at this moment—despite the fact this is all just a ruse for a few days—feels incredibly empowering.
He squeezes my fingers. A silent reassurance. If there already wasn’t enough of a strange, immediate feeling of being magnetized to this man running rampant through my veins. Is he that in tune with my responses to walking into a room? Can he not only sense that my pulse is racing, my nerves jangling, but is he able to hear my thoughts too?
