Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“Iprobably need to go and let the front desk know I’ve arrived?
Sort out my cabin?” I point toward what looks like an office as we walk toward the impressive entrance to the building at the center of the ranch.
Even though it’s dark, there are thousands of fairy lights and rows of lanterns everywhere, throwing a magical sweep of lights that illuminate the individual cabins scattered among trees.
Reid shakes his head, striding toward the big wooden doors with something of a familiarity. I’m assuming since he lives so close, he’s probably been here a hundred times. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I called ahead for you.”
“Oh…” My heart does a little flutter. This cowboy is making it very hard to keep remembering that this is all fake, especially after gently grilling me for the last ten minutes while we sat in his truck to ask me all sorts of little questions.
What’s your favorite season? The cusp of fall, when the leaves start turning gold. Have you ever ridden a horse? Not since I was about twelve. Do you prefer savory or sweet? I would do questionable things for a wheel of brie and salted crackers.
“Ready?” This cowboy is all-consuming as he damn near fills the doorway. With one giant palm resting on the handle, he pauses, extending the other in my direction.
My heart promptly leaps into my throat.
He senses my hesitation, which has nothing to do with not wanting to touch him, and everything to do with how much it scares me that I want to. Really badly.
“We should probably hold hands. Properly sell this thing, huh?”
“Yeah. Totally.” I squeak.
Reid steals my fingers into his without a second’s pause.
Swallowing me up inside his palm in a way that shoots tingling sparks all the way up to my shoulder.
He’s so warm, so sturdy, and those working hands of his are doing wicked things to my insides.
All from something as innocent as threading our fingers together.
It’s intimate, sensual, and somehow, he also makes it feel incredibly natural that he would simply take my hand like this.
It’s enough to leave me a little lightheaded as he guides me behind his enormous figure and steps into what can only be described as a sprawling mountain retreat.
One massive room set up for entertaining, with a roaring fireplace spanning the far wall, cozy chairs and couches scattered perfectly for enjoying the view or a night of enjoying the company.
Walking in, the room is abuzz with chatter from the twenty or so guests milling around. The Christmas photo booth is still set up over by a positively ginormous tree dripping with baubles and fairy lights.
As soon as we set foot inside, the attention zeroing in on us is impossible to ignore. It only takes a slightly nervous glance around to notice my ex posing for couples’ Christmas photos.
A pair of eyes flicker over Reid’s imposing frame, then down to me—my short stature in comparison to the giant figure at my side—then rather comically zero in on the spot where our hands interlink.
Yeah. He never held my hand.
Even if he might have considered doing so, it wouldn’t have ever been like this. Certainly never in public. Definitely not out in the open where anyone could see us.
Is this what it feels like to have someone willingly standing by my side?
I’ve come to always dread holidays. Always alone. Having Reid next to me at this moment—despite the fact this is all just a ruse for a few days—feels incredibly empowering.
He squeezes my fingers. A silent reassurance.
If there already wasn’t enough of a strange, immediate feeling of being magnetized to this man running rampant through my veins.
Is he that in tune with my responses to walking into a room?
Can he not only sense that my pulse is racing, my nerves jangling, but is he able to hear my thoughts too?
“Ahh, you two must be our newest couple checking in this evening.” A tall, imposing figure of a cowboy steps in front of us.
Dressed in flannel and wranglers, with long, unruly chestnut hair tied up in a bun.
Dark eyes glint, and his stubbled mouth twitches with mischief; focus pinballing between the two of us.
“Couldn’t let me get two feet inside the door, could ya?” Reid pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mia, this is Ford Tanner.”
The man before me develops a grin a mile wide as he slaps Reid on the shoulder, chuckles, then turns his attention to me. Swiping my free hand, he clasps it between both of his big palms.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to have you and your boyfriend staying with us for the holidays, Mia.”
Ohhh. This one is pure trouble wrapped up in a six-foot-five flannel bow.
A cowboy with charm that I’m sure reduces many an unsuspecting female to a puddle at a single glance.
It only takes one second of being in his presence to recognize the glint in his eyes and quirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He’s handsome as sin and radiates the type of confident swagger I’m sure leaves a wreckage of hearts in his wake.
“Tanner.” Reid issues a grunt before clearing his throat.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” I bite back a smile. He might be devilishly good-looking, but he’s certainly not the particular cowboy I’m interested in exploring. “Thank you for playing along,” I add, voice dropping into a hushed whisper.
“Don’t mention it. Anything for our boy Reid.” He touches the tip of his tongue to his incisor, looking over at the cowboy beside me. “Buuuuut… you’re gonna owe me, big fella.”
Reid curses softly beneath his breath. Clearly, these two know each other well, and it’s kind of endearing to see Ford teasing him in a way that feels natural. It’s nothing malicious, just a genuine friendship there. While nothing seems to make sense so far today, I feel like I can trust him.
What kind of magic spell lives in the snowflakes coating this mountain village?
“Lovely Mia, let me reassure you that I’m here to willingly play along, no questions asked.
I’ll have you know this is going to be the best gift you could give me this Christmas—Reid Landon walking through my front door looking bashful and wearing…
what is this…?” He pinches the fabric of Reid’s shirt at the shoulder.
“Did you take yourself shopping today, or something, old man?”
“Isn’t it about time you made yourself scarce?” He growls in return and lifts his shoulder in a subtle effort to swat Ford’s hand away.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but those threadbare old work shirts of yours from the nineteen eighties.”
I have to stifle a giggle.
“Mia, I’m impressed. You’ve got this cowboy wearing a shirt made from modern-day materials. Not something sewn before you were bor—”
“Alright. Enough already.” Reid coughs, interrupting the rest of that statement, and tugs on my hand.
My cheeks glow with warmth, as even though Ford’s only teasing, he’s absolutely correct.
There are undoubtedly more than a few years between us in age.
Though I don’t care about that in the slightest. If anything, the fact that this cowboy—the man currently holding my hand tighter than ever, securely towing me with him as we head across the room—is older than I am feels like it’s setting my blood alight.
He’s so goddamn sexy, I can hardly think clearly.
Maybe that’s the true magic of what we’re doing here? Perhaps that’s what I need to do for once in my life? Not overthink everything. Can I let go and drift like a snowflake on the night sky for once, without a plan, without carefully considering every angle and option?
Looks like I’m throwing myself into the wind and hoping for the best.
We reach impressive glass doors, leading out onto a covered porch scattered with armchairs and outdoor heaters. Just beyond the perimeter of the homestead is an area set up for tonight’s activity. Ax-throwing.
“Shall we?” Reid lays a big hand on the door, ready to lead us outside.
“Be prepared to be mortified. I’m going to suck at this,” I mutter.
Reid chuckles, a deep rumbling tone that I feel vibrating through my bloodstream just as much as I hear. “You’re a librarian. You carry stacks of heavy books around all day. I have faith in your upper body strength. How’s your throwing arm?”
I shake my head, even though he’s being sweet, I can’t deny that I am not blessed with any remotely sporting bones in my body. “A big ol’ F circled in red on my best day.”
“Lucky thing you’ve got me then.”
Sigh. He doesn’t know just how true that statement is.
The metal ax head embeds into the wooden target with the most satisfying of thunks. Bullseye.
“God, you’re really good at this.” I exhale. I’m really trying to behave and at least attempt to stay within the parameters of our arrangement. Trying exceptionally hard not to outright stare at Reid’s backside in those jeans he wears all too well.
Each couple taking part has its own target set up, with plenty of distance and partitions between everyone to avoid stray flying metal going off course.
Each of his first five throws has been on the button.
If not sailing directly to the middle of the target—as if he’s got them on a string, simply obeying his every command—they’ve skimmed the center, missing only by a hair.
Much to my smug satisfaction, I’ve spotted Dale the Douchecanoe throw at least one ax that didn’t even reach the target. It landed with a sad whimper on the grass about three-quarters of the required distance to actually make contact.
“Too many years spent splitting firewood.” He shrugs while returning with the ax and extends the handle toward me.
“Oh… I’m going to ruin everything.” I shake my head. “All your excellent work to put us in the lead is about to get erased by my pathetic efforts.” Wincing, I glance over my shoulder at the scoreboard.
“C’mon, sugar.” He winks at me. The smoothest of moves, perfectly timed just as a couple of sets of eyes get extra nosy and look our way. “I’ll help you get your aim in.”
With a not-so-subtle groan, because this is definitely going to be embarrassing, I step up to the line from where I need to hurl the small, but weighty ax. Reid is right there, stepping up behind me, bringing our bodies flush together in a way that makes me gasp.
The heat of him covers my spine, and seeps through as if all our winter layers don’t even exist. He’s so broad and tall compared to me, his long arms reach around to gather me up in an enveloping embrace, and my knees immediately threaten to buckle.
The scent of him weaves a path straight to my brain, the butterflies in my belly, and the spot between my legs where I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the ache building there.
“Put your hands like this.” His lips brush against the tip of my ear as he bends slightly to curl over the top of my figure.
“Stack them on the handle so you’ve got leverage and strength when you throw.
” Those massive hands of his wrap over the top of my own, and he guides me to wrap my palms around the base of the ax.
I’m surely going to levitate straight up into the night sky. Having his arms around me like this feels like the wickedest of temptations, curling a finger while tricking me into thinking this is anything but a game of pretend.
“Th—thanks.” Forming words is damn near impossible.
His hands remain right where they are, curled around mine, and that’s when I feel it. Reid allows his nose to brush against my temple as he takes a deep inhale. Something warm pools low in my belly in response to that lingering proximity.
“Your ex is watching you like a hawk.” His voice is gravelly, low. An edge to it that wasn’t there before. “I think he needs a little reminder that you’re not his.”
Oh. Right. He’s doing this—staying wrapped around me so tightly—because of the deal we made.
With a quick swallow and threatening the butterflies in my stomach to chill the fuck out because this is all fake, I nod. “Okay. Thanks. I think I got it.”
Reid steps back slowly, but he stays perilously close to the spot where I’m lifting the ax above my head and readying to hurl it forward. Just as I’m about to tense my muscles, he clears his throat.
“Imagine it’s the fucker’s face in the middle of that target.”
That makes me grin ever so slightly. All the motivation I need. With a heave, I fling it in the direction of the target, and nearly shriek when I see it not only fly the required distance, but actually land on the wooden board, too.
I mean, not anywhere near as precise as Reid’s efforts, but I managed to get somewhere inside the inner third of the painted rings on the first try.
“Holy shit.” Turning to face him, my mouth hangs open. “I honestly thought…”
“Never doubted you for a second.” His grin is a little boyish, and he steps toward me, hooking a finger beneath my chin to tilt my gaze up to meet his. It’s a move so damn potent, it leaves my entire body tingling just from that point of contact.
My heart does a skip and a twirl, and I start to float a few inches off the ground. Mia Aspen. Do not for one second read into the fact that this cowboy has easily spent so much of his evening with you and not once dropped the act.
He lets his eyes roam back and forth across my face for a long moment, enough time for me to drink in his handsomeness and get lost in the feel of him right there, staring down at me.
It feels too easy to imagine a scenario where this isn’t pretend, and where he might actually stoop down to kiss me.
God, I want him to kiss me.
Something passes across Reid’s features that I can’t interpret, but he gives me another heart-stopping look, then tilts his head in the direction of the target.
“Better channel that rage again.” He steps back, and I immediately want to protest. “This time, put that ax straight through his skull.”