Chapter 3 Jaylynn #2
“I didn’t think to bring a bathing suit,” I say, wiggling my fingers in the water. “Besides, I’ve got a town council meeting in a bit. Parade stuff. Mr. Tingley’s got his knickers in a festive twist.”
“Over what?”
“He doesn’t want us stapling antlers onto the deer.”
Penn’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.” I straighten up, trying to look serious. “He’s a real pain in the candy cane sometimes.”
“Jaylynn…” He points an accusatory finger at me. “You’re seriously not stapling antlers to live deer, are you?”
I grin. “No. You’re kind of gullible, you know that?”
He groans. “That’s actually one of the nicer things people have called me lately.”
That… makes my heart squeeze in a way I wasn’t expecting. I tilt my head. “What’s on your agenda today?”
He shrugs, stretching like he has all the time in the world—and a torso that should be framed in an art gallery. “Not much. I want to go see Elaine, but I’ll probably have to stop by the pharmacy first. Stock up on allergy meds.”
I chuckle. “You should come to the council meeting. Volunteer work will look good on you.”
I’d look good on you.
Whoa. Okay, brain. Dial it back. Not an immature twelve-year-old boy, remember?
He raises an eyebrow. “I could do that. What time?”
“Just after lunch.”
“Perfect.” He adjusts his position and leans against the headboard, arms crossed, looking every bit like the sexy distraction I absolutely do not need right now. “What exactly goes on at these meetings? You’re not going to rope me into playing Santa, are you?”
“I’m surprised you don’t want to.”
“Why would I want to play Santa?”
I don’t bother saying I know his type all too well. Brute. Attention seeker.
“Did you think I’d want to punch myself in the face or something?”
I chuckle. “The honor of playing Santa goes to douchebag deluxe, Dylan Hayes.”
His expression hardens. “Dylan Hayes… as in Mayor Dylan Hayes. Your ex?”
“The one and only.” Dylan was never nice to Penn. He liked to make fun of the guy on the outskirts of town. But Penn always kept to himself, focusing on school and hockey, and not social events, so I wasn’t even sure he knew Dylan and I were a thing in high school. Apparently, he did.
“Now I’m not sure if I can keep my promise to only deck the halls,” he murmurs and cracks his knuckles.
“Penn,” I warn, even though the visual of him taking Dylan down a notch is rather appealing.
“Fine.” Penn’s eyes narrow, the hard as nails enforcer coming out in him. But nothing about this man scares me.
“Unfortunately for me, I’m playing Mrs. Claus and I have to be on the float with him.” I mock shiver. “It’s probably going to take extreme discipline not to push him off. I’ll have to keep reminding myself we’re there for the kids.”
“Why isn’t Mayor Banks, Snowberry’s actual mayor, playing Santa.”
I snort out a laugh. “Cause he’s eighty-six, Penn.”
“Right, okay, will Dylan be at the meeting?”
“Yup.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s something steely behind it—like he’s gearing up for a faceoff.
“Then I’m definitely going to be there.” There’s a sharpness in his tone that tells me this isn’t just about volunteer work.
Not anymore. While he might not have stepped in back when Dylan publicly humiliated me at the Christmas lighting ceremony, it looks like he’s finally ready to take a stand.
And this time, he’s standing beside me.
I find that oddly endearing.
“Just no hitting,” I reinforce.
“Right. Will his fiancée be there, too?” Penn asks, and I swear I can hear the distaste already curling in his voice.
“Oh, Peppermint Barbie goes wherever he goes,” I reply sweetly. No, I’m not going to admit I’ve checked her socials a time or two or a thousand. I don’t do it because I want to know what Dylan is up to. As an influencer, she’s quite charming and good at what she does.
Penn throws his head back and laughs—a real, full-bodied laugh that echoes off the walls as he repeats, “Peppermint Barbie.” His laugh bubbles up in my chest and pulls a smile from me before I can stop it.
Okay… maybe this fake relationship thing is going to be more fun than I thought.
Dangerous for my sanity, maybe. But fun.
“Sloane’s her real name.”
“Of course, it is,” he responds.
“Her handle is @dreamgirl.”
He scoffs. “Probably a nightmare.”
I grin at him. “Transferred animosity, I like it.”
He gives me a playful wink that sends shivers down my spine. “I am always going to side with the girl who let me in her bed.”
“Maybe I can talk her into playing Mrs. Claus. That’d be great for her socials. Unless you actually do play Santa, and then I won’t have to be near Dylan.”
“Nope, sorry. Not a gig I want.”
A little surprised by that—not that I ever thought Dylan would give it up—because it would be really good for his image, I pull the hot tub cover closed with a satisfying thud, then cross to the window. I tug back the striped peppermint curtains and blink in surprise.
“It’s snowing.” Tiny flakes drift lazily past the glass, soft and sparkly, like powdered sugar falling from the sky. I hug myself, warmed by the sight, and maybe a little by the company.
Behind me, the bed creaks. I glance over my shoulder.
Barefoot, half-naked, and all six-foot-something of sinful temptation, pads across the room and comes to a stop directly behind me.
The heat coming off his body blankets me.
Then he leans over me, just enough that I feel the warmth of his breath at the shell of my ear.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, his voice so low and velvety I nearly melt. “Maybe we can go skiing later.” He moves back, leaving cold where there was heat.
“That could be fun,” I say, hoping I sound casual and not like my heart is suddenly doing triple axels. “We’ll see if there’s time. These meetings can drag on.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow night I have a big family dinner, and when I say I, I mean we, since we’re a couple and all.”
“Uh, how is your father going to take all this? Isn’t there some coach/daughter hands off rule?”
“I’m an adult, Penn. I can date, or get engaged to, whoever I want. Besides, he’s not your coach anymore.”
“Right,” he says, almost like he’s not too sure that’s not going to happen again.
“It’s fine.” I let the curtain fall back into place, and when I think he’s stepped further away than he has, I turn, only to hit a wall.
Except… not a wall.
Penn.
Solid, hard chest, no shirt, and now two hands catching my arms as I wobble.
“Oh, sorry,” I squeak.
He steadies me like it’s nothing and gently pulls me closer, holding me against him for a second longer than strictly necessary.
“You good?” he asks, looking down at me with those ridiculous ocean-blue eyes that should be illegal.
“Yup,” I lie, pretending my entire nervous system isn’t short-circuiting.
Then he smiles.
Not just any smile. That smile. The one that has been messing with my brain and my hormones and possibly the space-time continuum since he walked into the inn last night, and maybe even back in high school.
“And look at that,” he says, voice light, teasing. “You didn’t flinch when I touched you.”
I smirk, trying to recover some ground. “Good thing we practiced.” With a strategic pivot, I dart around him. “I need to shower.”
Smooth.
I march toward the bathroom like I didn’t just trip over my own libido.
Wow. Way to play it cool, girlfriend.
I shower fast, hoping the cool water will chill whatever nonsense my hormones are cooking up, but it’s no use.
The heat in my body is not water-soluble.
I towel off, throw on jeans and a sweater, and pad back into the bedroom only to find Penn standing beside the bed, brow furrowed, struggling to arrange decorative pillows.
“The inn has someone for that.”
“I know, I just…” He trails off, his hands stilling mid-plump.
“I don’t like to make too much work for other people.
” His voice is light, but there’s something tight behind it.
A shadow flickers across his face, something old and quiet and worn thin.
He shrinks back half a step, like he’s trying to take up less space, trying to disappear into the peppermint wallpaper.
Heck, I think the elf even let out a sigh of sympathy.
But then Penn straightens with a crooked smile, but there’s a flicker in his expression, something tight around the eyes.
“I’ve got a lot of good deeds to knock off if I want back on the ‘good’ list.”
“Were you ever on the ‘good list’, Radman?” He puckers up his face and I chuckle.
“Let me help,” I say, stepping in. But the second I get within range—BZZZZZ!
The mistletoe alarm shrieks. My heart leaps into my throat.
Penn’s eyes dart upward. “Okay, seriously,” I mutter, glaring at the ceiling.
“I’m going to have that thing uninstalled. Possibly exorcised.”
“Wait,” Penn says, straightening. His tone shifts, thoughtful, serious, but still with that little edge of playful danger that makes my knees suspiciously wobbly. “You know… maybe it’s not the worst idea.”
“What’s not?”
“This. Us.” He gestures between us. “Kissing. Maybe we should try it. Just once. So, we’re not weird if one of these buzzers in the inn catches us off guard again.”
I blink. “You… you want to kiss me?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt. Right?”
Hurt? Oh, it’s going to hurt all right. Deep between my legs.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I guess I don’t like to half-ass anything.”
“Same,” he replies, his voice dropping half an octave. “If I’m in, I’m going all in.”
Gulp.
He winces. “That… that came out wrong.”
“No, I got it,” I say quickly, waving a hand like we’re cool. So cool. Antarctica cool.
“So… kissing? Yeah, okay. Let’s… do that.” I step forward, go up on my toes, mentally prepping for a quick, harmless peck.
But Penn apparently missed that memo.
His hands slide around my back, warm and confident, and suddenly I’m pulled flush against him like this is not a drill. His lips brush mine—soft at first, tentative—but then they shift, melt, press. And then…
His tongue.
Penn Radford’s tongue is in my mouth.
And I…
I…like it.
A soft, helpless moan escapes me, and his response is instant. He deepens the kiss, pulling me tighter, until there’s not even air between us. My hands find his bare back, instinctive and greedy, fingers skating over hard muscle and smooth skin, mapping the territory like I plan to move in.
And, uh… he’s definitely not unaffected. Like, visibly.
Is that—?
Whoa.
My brain is doing backflips while my body is composing a thank-you letter to Santa.
I break the kiss, just barely, breath coming in hot gasps. “Penn?”
He blinks down at me, dazed, lips kiss-swollen, hands still clutching the back of my pajama top like he’s not ready to let go.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
I lift one trembling finger and point up to the ceiling. “So… is that…” I nod toward the still-buzzing mistletoe alarm. “…causing a rise?”
He glances up, then back down at me, his mouth twitching. “Uh, yeah…” A beat. “…gallbladder.”