Page 17 of Dumped for a Christmas Tree Farmer

I ignore her. “The snowball fight tonight. What's our strategy?”

The cat pokes her head into the bathroom before scurrying off again. “My wrist is sprained, thanks to your girlfriend,” she snips. “There is no strategy except icing it and going to bed.”

“It’s four in the afternoon—you're not going to bed yet. Come on. You're right-handed, you’ll be fine.”

She purses her lips into a cute little pout. She’s considering it. Just a little bit of a push and she’ll be agreeing.

“It will give you the chance to get revenge,” I add. I let it sit and park myself on the shower assistance chair, which I assume belonged to her mother when Indy was caring for her.

“I seem to be getting a shitty deal here,” she mutters.

I kick my feet up on the edge of the tub, leaning back into the chair, my hands threaded together across my stomach.

“Explain.”

She rolls her eyes, shifting in the bath awkwardly so as not to reveal anything she doesn’t want me to see. “The way I see it, even if this works out for you and you take Holly home to Seattle in the new year, I’m going to be left here with the whole town thinking I got dumped by two men.”

“One will come back to you, I’d stake my reputation on it.”

Her pupils are like pinpricks. “Even if that does happen, I’ll always be a consolation prize—the second choice. The whole town is going to think it.”

I consider this for a moment. My goal is my primary concern, of course, but I like Indy. I like her attitude, the way she holds herself. I like that she takes care of things herself and doesn’t rely on other people. I also like that she’s hot as hell and has a penchant for revenge, same as me. But maybe that’s why we’re drawn to each other. Why I had to tell her to stop with the melty eyes last night because I would have gone there. I would have thrown her onto her mattress, spanked that pretty pussy she’s hiding from me right now, and whispered utter filth in her ear until I had her coming. On my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock, I don’t care which. Indy Winters is a smoke show. James must have lost his damn mind.

But I can’t sleep with Indy. Even I’m not that depraved to have sex with the ex-best friend of the girl I intend to marry. I want revenge on Holly’s public humiliation of me, not to completely blow everything out of the water and start over.

“What if we up the stakes? A little public PDA tonight should be enough to jingle the bells of jealousy in both of them.”

Her eyes drop to my lips, just for a second before she looks away. The lapping of the water against the tub tells me she’s shifting uncomfortably. Just the thought of her squirming right now has blood rushing south to my cock.

“We can be touchy-feely. But nothing more. I don’t want people thinking we’re together and then I get dumped by two guys in a week. I’ll have to drive out to the city every time I want to get laid,” she grumbles.

Jesus.

Just the thought of Indy laid out, black lacy lingerie tight and silky, letting her gorgeous tits spill out of the top whilst she slips her hand between her legs comes to the forefront of my mind. Is she a pillow princess? Does she lie back and let the man do all the work? Or does she ride and grind and fuck hard? Would she scratch? I know she licks because it’s all I can think about since James mentioned it yesterday. Where could she put that pink little tongue that would have him in such a tizzy? I adjust my pants as discreetly as possible, but she spots me, her eyes flaring with triumph.

She lifts herself out of the bath, and I pull my legs down, my boots hitting the floor with a hard thump. Rivets of water run down her body, between the valley of her breasts, down her smooth stomach. Her chest rises and falls, and she stands oh so casually as she waits for me to finish my perusal of her body. Wisps of loose, damp hair cling to her neck, the rest clipped up. It’s short, and I realize she can’t tie it up into a full ponytail. Her eyes dark, assessing as she reaches for a towel, wrapping herself up like a present. My dick presses against my zipper, throbbing as it sends a message to my hand to reach out, slip my fingers up her towel, and see if every part of her is wet.

She steps out of the bath, her toes scrunching into the bathmat until she slips out of the bathroom. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. Indy Winters is going to be in my head for the rest of my life. The curve of her hip, the full weight of her breasts begging me to lick off every drop of water that kissed her skin, and I sat there and did nothing. I’m going to be eighty years old, in my rocking chair and thinking about my biggest regret of my life, and I already know this will be it.

“Oh, Mav?”

I snap my head toward the doorway where Indy leans back, her fingers curled around the doorframe.

“Yeah?” I rasp.

“Save the come-fuck-me eyes for in front of James.”

Chapter Eight

December 26

Indy

Mav, Henry, Scott, and I make our way to the town square where painted Christmas-themed pallets have been erected on their sides to create cover for the upcoming snowball fight. The four of us stick closely together, but Suzanne, our mayor, pulls Mav away to be on our opposing team, on the opposite side of the square right outside Josie’s grocery store. He gives me a small shrug, drops his gaze down to my leggings, and backs away with nothing but a wink.

He’s on the same team as Holly and James, who have somehow managed to stick together. Holly’s father, Hugh Honeyford, steps toward Henry, Scott, and I with a huge grin on his face, rubbing his gloved hands together.

“Indy!” he says. “How are you?”