“Or I could pull you into a dark corner?” He went on as though he had no thought in the world about our close work proximity nine months out of the year.
“How about a nice, friendly kiss on the cheek?” I countered. “One where we can go back to school and face each other with our heads held high, knowing that we chose the high road.”
His mouth split into a grin. “The high road? What road do you think I’m offering you right now?”
I pushed lightly against his laughing chest. “Maybe I’ll just have my mistletoe kiss with somebody else.”
I didn’t really mean that. The thought of asking Russ to give me a fatherly kiss on the cheek under a sprig of mistletoe was definitely out of the question. After some groveling, I was pretty sure Glenn would be game if I asked, but obviously, I couldn’t—and definitely wouldn’t—do that. But for whatever reason, I didn’t want Miles to think he had me so easily. Maybe I could kiss a stranger. There was a small handful of unattached men at the lodge. I read books about heroines kissing strangers all the time. It could be exciting. Maybe even romantic.
“You’d fake cheat on me?” His voice sounded incredulous.
“It would just be a friendly cheek kiss,” I insisted. “It’s how they greet each other in France and Italy. It wouldn’t be cheating.”
His eyes narrowed, considering me while I writhed under his scrutiny. My gaze caught on his full bottom lip before I swallowed and tore my eyes away. Miles’s problem was that he was too attractive for his own good—and mine. But that was fine. There were lots of attractive men in this world. I could handle it. He could be platonically handsome. I didn’t need to hyper-focus on that. Now I just needed to convince myself that kissing a random stranger would be preferable to the guy currently holding me in his arms.
A challenge lit his eyes. “Okay. But I get to pick.”
I’m sure there were only two or three unattached males in this room, so I didn’t think having him pick would be detrimental. The song ended, and in a flash, he led me off the dance floor. When we settled against a wall, he leaned in close, arm around my shoulders, as we scanned the room.
“What about him?”
He motioned toward a large cowboy with a handlebar mustache and a ten-gallon hat, sitting on the stage, playing a guitar version of “Little Drummer Boy”。
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Frank. Don’t get your cowgirl hopes up. He’s actually a plumber in town, but he moonlights as Frank the Cowboy for the guests here a few nights a week. But I happen to know he’d be very okay with a mistletoe kiss.”
I swallowed. “That’s quite the mustache.”
“It’s a specific type of woman who can hold onto a man like that. You up for it?”
“I don’t think I’m woman enough for Frank the Cowboy.”
“Poor Frank. Strike one.”
He began scanning the room once more. I tried very hard not to notice the feel of his arm around my shoulder. It felt so casual and yet territorial at the same time. And it was beginning to mess with my head.
“How about your ex-boyfriend glaring daggers at me right now?”
I followed his gaze back to Glenn, who glowered our way for a long moment before turning his attention elsewhere. Poor Glenn. If there were any other single girls here, I had no doubt he would be dancing up a storm right in front of my nose.
“I think he’s more in the mood to meet you out by the flagpole.”
“I guess we could go see if he’d be up for some kissing afterward.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Okay, that’s strike two.”
“What happens on strike three?”
“You’re out.”
I growled lowly. “What does that mean for this dumb game you’re playing?”
He smiled. “It means that if you can’t find somebody in the three very decent options I’ve given you, you have to kiss me.”
It took some effort to keep my face passive and my blush absent from my cheeks. I wasn’t sure I succeeded. Miles began searching the room once more.
“Let's see…my last pick. I’d better make it good. How about that guy?”
I looked at Miles and then at the man he motioned to, who was very much in his middle age and very much sweating by the fire. I hesitated. No. I most certainly did not want that guy. But was it a better alternative than kissing Miles Taylor on a Christmas vacation? No. But…
“Yuuup. He’s the one.”
A smile grew on his face before he released me and began to move away. “Okay, I’ll go get him for you.”
My hand shot out in a panic, grabbing the sleeve of his coat and pulling him back toward me. Not allowing myself to think, I took aim and closed my eyes. His lips were much softer than I had remembered from our fumbled kiss on the first night. For a moment, we just stood there, our lips pressed together. I had never been the type of girl to kiss much in public, and at first, I was very aware of the room around us—the eyes that might have been watching. Speaking of eyes…I opened mine a peek and found him staring at me. I jolted and began to pull away, but Miles stepped forward into my space, his hand at my back, increasing the pressure of our lips until mine became pliable. Moldable.
Ever so slowly, Miles drew my body closer until we were pressed together. With one hand lightly at my neck, his thumb brushed gently over my jaw. This time, my mouth opened to his, and he responded instantly. His lips toyed with mine, pulling and playing…teasing. And then…he wasn’t teasing any longer. His other hand wound its way to my back, pulling me close until there was no space between us. By this time, my brain had caught up and was flashing red lights, telling me to slow down. Pull over. Get out from under his lips.
In a state somewhere between morbid curiosity and satisfaction, I nestled closer. I curled into his warmth. I needed to stop this. I hadn’t intended for it to be like this. The mortification of facing him after a kiss like this was more than my mind could fathom. But my body begged for just another second. His chest pounded beneath my hands as they wound their way up to his shoulders. Our kiss deepened as I felt his hand at the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine as he lightly gripped my hair. We were fake dating. I could blame this all on that. People were watching. It was helping our cover. Glenn was probably watching. My family was watching. They needed to see this. I leaned in for one last second, feeling his strong body against mine just a bit longer before my brain overruled my body, and I stepped out of his arms.
Holy crap.
Miles blinked and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. I glanced away, flustered by my reaction to him. I didn’t know where to look, so obviously I looked everywhere but directly at Miles. My shirt had gotten twisted somewhere in our…exchange…so I tugged it back down. Miles seemed as lost for words as I was. From the corner of my eye, I watched him run a hand through his hair. We both watched silently as my mom and Russ began heading our way.
As if by mutual agreement of not wanting to talk to anybody, he slowly pulled me back out onto the dance floor. The tune was a jazzy version of “Jingle Bell Rock,” but we kept to our own beat, which was basically tone-deaf and a bit…muddled.