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“Your… your grandma made them for you?”
“Of course she did. That’s what grandmas do.” he says with a wink. “I can probably get you a pair if you play your cards right.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
How is a girl supposed to handle things like this?
“Did you kids want a photo in the forest?” Jack the Sleigh Captain asks over his shoulder. “We’ve got the set-up coming up ahead.”
Carter meets my eyes. “You up for it, Lex?”
I nearly fall out of the sleigh. Now he remembers my name? It’s unacceptable. Using my name makes it harder to be annoyed at him. Especially when he’s being all Mr Sexy Sweater who reads and wears the mittens his grandma made him.
What is even happening?
I gulp the rest of my cider, wishing it was spiked.
It can’t be possible for him to be a good guy. He has groupies, for fuck’s sake. Shepphoes. He’s just trying to fix his ‘naked ass on the internet’ scandal.
Right?
Suddenly, the sleigh ride comes to a halt as several screams go up from the photo op area.
A shrill woman’s voice shouts, “There he is!”
“Shit,” Carter says, blowing out a breath. “Guess they found me.”
“Who—”
A small crowd, including several young women, multiple moms, and a gaggle of kids, runs over. One of the kids is waving a baseball mitt at Carter.
“Carter Sheppard!” The kid is practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re my favorite player ever! Can you sign my mitt? Please?”
Carter glances at me, an apologetic look on his face. “Do you mind?” he asks, and I’m more confused than ever. Do I mind if he signs a few autographs instead of getting a fake photo with me for his fiancé publicity stunt?
Carter hops down and signs the kid’s glove and an assortment of crap shoved at him before smoothly extricating himself. “Sorry, guys,” he tells them. “I need to get back to my date.”
There are a lot of “awwws” and more than a few jealous glances my way. The mom of the kid with the mitt hands Carter a slip of paper.
“Thank you for making my son’s day,” she tells him, with far more eye-batting than could possibly be necessary. “Let me know if you ever need anything.”
Carter hops back into the sleigh and then we’re gliding along our way, past the sleigh ride photo op, leaving the crowd behind. I stare at the slip of paper as Carter crumples it up and drops it into his empty cocoa cup.
“Did she just give you her phone number?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Yep,” Carter says.
“That’s insane,” I exclaim, more annoyed than I have a single right to be. “We’re engaged, she should have a little respect.”
Carter’s eyes light up in amusement. “You’re jealous? I’m glad you’re finally respecting the sanctity of our engagement.”
Yes. That’s the reason. I’m respecting the sanctity of our fictional engagement. I’m not mad because I’m starting to feel like Carter’s actually my fiancé. That would be crazy, and I’m still totally sane.
“You know you have nothing to be jealous about, right?” Carter says. “No one interests me like you do, hometown girl.”
It’s a line. Oh, God, is it a line. Jack the Sleigh Captain is probably a planted TMZ correspondent who’s going to report on our date.
But when I look at Carter, the words feel real. He’s looking at me the way people in the library look when they’ve found their favorite book. And as the horses tug us along the tree-lined path, Carter’s hand reaches for mine.
And I take it.
Which is definitely crazy.
Even crazier, I don’t think this date will be ending with just a kiss.
Chapter Seven
The drive home feels… charged. With, as much as I hate to admit it, chemistry. So much chemistry. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it off. I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. So I decide to give in. To embrace it. I spend the drive drinking in every delicious detail of Carter Sheppard. From the way the muscles in his biceps flex when he turns the steering wheel, to the stubble along his jaw, to the way his jeans stretch across his strong thighs. I force myself to be discreet so that he doesn’t catch me being a complete creep, but it’s hard. Nearly impossible, now that I’m fully embracing the chemistry and letting my mind run wild.
I stare at his hands and how they grip the steering wheel. They’re large hands, and I wonder if they’re callused after years of playing sports. I imagine the feel of those hands on me, wondering how he’ll touch me when he gets the chance.
And it’s when he gets the chance. Because at this point, I don’t know how I’ll survive if I don’t explore this thing between us. I cannot possibly be expected to live the rest of my life without knowing what it would be like to sleep with Carter. Because I’ve always wondered, haven’t I? Ever since high school, when I had a crush on him and he didn’t know I existed.
