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Noel chuckles, brushing his chest.
“You barely got hit at all,” I laugh, reaching out to help.
Except helping means that I’m running my hands over his hard-packed muscles, which wouldn’t be so much of a problem if I’d just done it and stopped. Smiled and made a crack about his insane body like I did at the farm. But instead, the second I realize what I’m doing, those harmless brisk brushes cease, my movements turning molasses slow as he catches my hand in his.
He gives my hand a light squeeze. “Think I’m good.”
Right. Of course, he is.
And I’m making it weird again.
“Sorry.The hazards of fresh trees,” I whisper lamely.
God, this guy probably only agreed to come along with me because I seemed like a reasonably cool girl. Not reading too much into what I’m guessing is simply his chronically flirty personality. Now he’s stuck in my parents’ house with me on Christmas Eve and suddenly I’m touching his chest like it’s mine, and—
“Hey.” He crooks his finger beneath my chin, tipping my head so our eyes meet, and the breath stalls in my lungs. Gently wiping at my cheek with his thumb, he says, “Worth it.”
He steps back, shoving a hand through his dark mane. “Jeep still open?”
It takes me a second before my brain reboots and I nod, managing a strangled, “Yeah.”
“Let’s get everything inside and then we can start on the decorations.”
* * *
Noel
I almost kissed her.
And maybe I would have if we’d been standing in some bar with half a dozen of her friends nearby instead of alone in her parents’ place, which is remote enough I couldn’t even see the neighbors when we pulled up.
So, no. That isn’t part of the plan.
But damn, when she was looking up at me like that, lips parted and eyes searching—
Shit.
I read situations for a living. The ice, the players, every move and twitch tell me what’s going to happen an instant before it does. It’s what makes me good at my job.
But this?
This isn’t a game. It’s not just a job.
And I really don’t want to misread what’s happening here, only to realize the soft, searching look that felt like it was pulling me in like a tractor beam was actually Misty searching for signs of a serial killer within.
So, I’m going to wait until Diesel shows up with Stormy.
I’m going to play it cool, and then before we leave, which I’m seriously less enthusiastic about than I was this morning, maybe see about scoring her socials—
I stop halfway to the house, four oversized handle bags dangling on each arm and a box of wrapped gifts in my grasp, and turn to where Misty’s locking up her car… with a key.
Which is almost as weird as me not having her socials plugged into my phone already.
Diesel might have lost his ever-lovin’ mind this morning, but the guy was right about my habit of buddying up with damn near everyone I meet. How the hell have I spent the entire day with this girl and not managed to hustle her phone, Facebook, IG, or Snap?
“What’s up?” she asks, hiking the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
“What’s your phone number?”
