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“Carter, you out here?”
Like a bucket of water has just been thrown on us in a snowstorm, both Carter and I jump apart. I whip around for the source of the voice, finding it in the form of Ryan Sheppard standing on his doorstep, next door, grinning at us.
“Sorry, bro,” Ryan says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all. “Didn’t realize you were with company.”
“No need to be sorry!” I call out, shriller and louder than necessary. “We were just, um…”
What? What could I possibly say? That I was looking for my house keys in his mouth?
The end of the sentence dies on my lips. I look at Carter for help, but he’s as flushed as I am. Unfortunately, I have a feeling it’s a far better look on him than me.
“Just text me about the next date, okay?” I babble. “Just text me. Later.”
“You’ve got it, sexy elf,” Carter says with a grin. And no, flustered as I am I don’t miss that he just upgraded me to a sexy elf.
I escape into my house as soon as I can, sure that I’m blushing from head to toe. Then I shut the door and lock it tight.
I have got to get a hold of myself. Because right there? That was a player working his best moves.
“It won’t happen again,” I promise Rudy, who’s watching me with a tilted head from the kitchen.
I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t believe me.
Chapter Six
This might come as a surprise to the other Reindeer Falls residents—particularly Maggie—but I’ve never been on a sleigh ride. Has there been a sleigh ride down the street from my house for years? Yes. But just because there’s been a sleigh ride doesn’t mean I’ve gone on one. After all, who, exactly, was I going to go on a sleigh ride with? My last serious boyfriend, Bryan, believed that sci-fi movie marathons made for the ultimate romantic date. And while I do enjoy a good movie marathon, I have to admit that relationship wasn’t exactly lighting me on fire in the love department.
Still, just because a sleigh ride date sounds like the ultimate in romance, it doesn’t mean that I’ll enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I’ll think it’s romantic. In fact, chances are, I’ll be woefully disappointed.
These are the things I have to tell myself after Carter sends me a five a.m. text message that says: “Sleigh ride date tonight. Sexy elf costume encouraged. ;)”
Obviously, he’s joking about the last part. I’m convinced he included it to shake my confidence and confuse me. After all, what man kisses a girl like his life depends on it and then simply walks home, only to follow up with this text message? Clearly, last night was a power play. It was his way of reasserting dominance in the relationship. The fake relationship.
Clearly, I need to reclaim the alpha position. I watch a lot of Animal Planet, and in the dog training world, this would be easy. I would just need to figure out a way to train Carter to understand I’m the top dog. And perhaps keep biscuits in my pocket. But what am I supposed to do in this situation? If I dress up, then he’s won. If I don’t, then I have to go on a date with Carter freaking Sheppard dressed as the librarian goody-goody he’s convinced that I am. It’s a lose-lose situation.
The whole sleigh ride part is so obnoxiously transparent, too. Just another photo op. In fact, now that I think about it, I shouldn’t be surprised if a TMZ photo of our kiss from last night drops on Twitter today.
I run all of this through my head while I go through the motions at work, trying not to think about Carter and our sleigh ride not-date tonight, but failing miserably. Basically, no matter how I spin this in my mind, there’s only one logical conclusion: last night was a fluke, and Carter’s pretending to be into me just so he can further this faux engagement story, fix his reputation and sign a huge endorsement deal. And I have to be smart and not fall for it like one of his dumb groupies.
Which should be easy, considering I’m an intelligent, capable, well-read young woman. I’m not going to get all doe-eyed just because a handsome jock wants to take me for the world’s most stereotypical Christmas date. Nope. No way. I will not be wooed. I refuse.
It doesn’t help, though, when I poke around—purely doing my job, of course—and see that the book Carter checked out the other day has been returned. This fuels my rage because, obviously, he didn’t read it. It was just a way for him to badger me. But then I notice something else that’s even more bizarre and irritating. Carter didn’t just return the book. He checked out the next two in the series.
