Chapter 21
Jaylynn
After a day of making sure the festival continues to stay on track—fingers crossed—I grab my purse from the dresser and tug on my hat.
“You guys have fun tonight,” I call to Penn as he steps from the bathroom, hair damp, skin still flushed from the shower. He looks so good, I nearly scrap my plans and climb back into bed just to get tangled up in him.
“You’re still not going to tell me where you’re sneaking off to?” he asks, pulling me into his arms before I can answer. Not that I’m going to actually tell him. His mouth claims mine in a kiss so deep, so consuming, I forget the day, the season, my own name.
When he finally eases back, I’m breathless. “What?” I manage, dazed by his clean, soapy scent and the heat rolling off his body.
He grins. “So much for kissing the answer out of you.”
“There was a question?”
“The question,” he says, tucking a stray lock under my hat, “Was whether you’re going to tell me where you’re going.”
“Christmas shopping is all you need to know,” I tease, poking his stomach.
His smile fades, replaced with a seriousness that tugs at something deep inside me. “I don’t want you out on those roads after dark. Not because of me.”
I roll my eyes, but inside, my chest tightens.
The truth is, I’m chasing down a gift, one, I hope that will mean a lot to him.
After a loud, chaotic Christmas dinner, I want nothing more than a quiet Christmas night with Penn right here—in this room—before he has to return to Boston.
My stomach knots at the thought, because I don’t just want stolen nights with him.
I want to go back with him. Not as a friend. Not as the team’s PR manager.
As his.
“Why do you always think everything’s about you, Penn?” I shoot back as I roll my eyes. “Such a narcissist.” I pause and crinkle my nose. “Wait, do narcissists think everything is about them?”
“Probably.”
“Okay then. That explains Dylan.” I get a foul taste in my mouth just saying his name.
“Why are you thinking about Dylan?”
“I’m not.”
His head tilts, his eyes scanning my face like he wants to ask something but then a slow smile breaks out.
“You’re coming back tonight though, right?
” His gaze drops to the bed, his voice roughening.
“Because I’m going to need you here. Naked.
Between the sheets.” His hand skims down my body, slides between my thighs. “And my mouth right here.”
A sharp shiver wracks me. God, it’s insane. The more I have this man, the more I crave him.
A door slams down the hall, yanking me back to reality.
Dylan. Sloane. Their room is across the hall are a constant reminder that this cozy inn isn’t our private haven anymore.
And Dylan—of course—swears he booked his stay here ages ago.
A few nights with his family and then a romantic Christmas getaway with his fiancée.
I don’t know if it’s true, but I do know that last night at dinner—which he managed to weasel himself into having with us—he was far too flirty with me.
Surely to God, Sloane wasn’t right about him wanting me back.
Penn stiffens and as if he’s reading my mind he says, “Surprised he didn’t weasel an invite to your parents’ place to watch the game tonight.”
“Yeah, me too.” My mind flickers to Sloane. She seems so out of place, maybe even lonely. Behind all her glossy posts and polished smiles, there’s a real person with real cracks in her armor. I know the feeling. Things aren’t always what they look like. And I’m the biggest proof of that.
Should I invite her to go to Rutledge with me?
I consider it a moment longer, then change my mind.
Last night after dinner wrapped up, she said she wasn’t feeling well.
While I actually like her now that I’ve glimpsed behind the curtain so to speak, she’s quite sweet and…
vulnerable. I really shouldn’t have judged so harshly based on her social media.
I honestly know better than that, and feel pretty awful about it.
But it’s probably best that I don’t get involved deeper at this point.
Especially after what she said, and I wouldn’t put it past Dylan to use her against me somehow so he could weasel his way back into playing Santa.
I can’t believe how manipulative the man is.
What am I even saying?
Of course, I believe it.
Dylan thrives on the limelight. I’m just grateful Penn shut him down, and now I get to look forward to sharing the float with Penn.
A laugh bubbles in my chest. Crazy to think when I first saw him trying to check in at Snowberry Inn, I lumped him in with Dylan.
Wrong. So wrong. Penn is every kind of different—every kind of better.
He moves to the window, pulling back the curtains. “Checked the weather. No snow in the forecast.”
My heart wobbles at the simple thoughtfulness, and I can’t stop staring at the way his shoulders shift as he scoops up my mittens and carries them to me. That’s when it hits me.
“Wait. Where did the creepy elf go?”
Penn bites his lip, like he’s holding back a grin. Mischief dances in his eyes.
“What did you do?” I march to the closet, yank the door open. No elf. Spinning on him, I narrow my eyes. “Penn?”
He whistles. Innocent. Too innocent.
“Oh my God, you did. How?”
He brushes a hand over his shoulder. “Douchebag isn’t the only one with clout.”
My brain races. “Belinda. You charmed Belinda, didn’t you?”
“What happens at the check-in desk at Snowberry Inn,” he says solemnly, “Stays at the check-in desk at Snowberry Inn.”
“Penn!” I half laugh, half yell.
“I may have told her I wanted to give him a welcome gift.”
My eyes narrow. “And?”
“And… she’ll be getting signed jerseys for her nephews.” He presses a finger to his lips. “But it’s a secret, so shhh…”
I laugh so hard I fling my arms around him. “Oh my God, Penn, I love you.”
His hands pause mid-stride around my back. My breath stalls. Did I really just—
“I mean—I love that you did that.” My voice wobbles. “Who knew you were so naughty.”
He leans close, his breath hot against my ear. “You knew,” he murmurs, and those two words promise all kinds of wicked.
Heat floods me, stealing my composure. “Yeah. Guess I did.” I glance at the clock, fighting the urge to drag him back to bed. “You’d better get going before the guys start wondering what’s making you late. I don’t even want them imagining…” I cringe.
“Right.” He straightens, grabs his phone. “Let me check if Jaxon is ready. I’m catching a ride with him.”
I grin, warmed by how much more comfortable he seems with his teammate. They’re even planning ice time together after Christmas, before heading back to Boston. As he fires off a text, I blow him a kiss and slip into the hall.
I’m seconds from the lobby when Dylan turns the corner and I slam right into him. I’m about to apologize when the mistletoe alarm shrieks. Oh, hell no. Belinda’s head pops up. Of course. I swear I’m dismantling that damn thing tonight.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I mutter, trying to sidestep.
But before I realize what’s happening, Dylan’s hand clamps around my back and his mouth crashes onto mine. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I shove him hard, swipe my sleeve across my mouth, sputtering. “What the hell, Dylan?”
He only grins, brushing off my disgust like it’s nothing. “We had no choice.” He points at the mistletoe just as the alarm dies down.
“We absolutely had a choice. Don’t you ever do that again.” Fury propels me past him.
I stop at the desk where Belinda is watching with wide eyes. “I’m heading to Rutledge,” I say briskly. “Going to hit The Memory Chest. Want me to stop at that candle shop you love?”
Her face brightens. “Oh, you’re a lifesaver. I’ve been too swamped to get there.” She scribbles a list, hands it over. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“My pleasure.”
I tuck the note in my bag and escape outside. The winter sun beams down, glittering off the snow. No need to borrow Penn’s SUV. My old car will do just fine today.
Sliding behind the wheel, I yank off my mittens and crank the radio.
Christmas music floods the car, sweeping away the sour taste Dylan left behind.
The day is gorgeous, the festival is on track, and I have a hot fiancé who plays tricks with elves, teaches hockey to kids, is bonding with my family, and warms my bed every night.
And that thought makes me smile all the way to Rutledge.
The sun is already slipping low on the horizon by the time I reach town square.
The streets glow with holiday lights, strings of gold and red zigzagging overhead, storefront windows dressed in evergreen garlands and frosted displays.
The air smells faintly of cinnamon and wood smoke, carried on the crisp bite of evening.
Main Street is bustling, couples with linked arms, kids darting between parents, last-minute shoppers hurrying from one store to the next.
I blend right in, another face in the holiday rush.
First stop is the candle shop. Belinda’s list is short, but the line isn’t. The place is warm, heady with vanilla, balsam, and cranberry spice. I shoulder my way through the crowd, juggling armfuls of jars, and grin when I finally manage to snag everything she wanted. Errand complete.
But it’s the next stop that sends my pulse skittering. Just weeks ago, I never would have imagined picking out a gift for Penn Radford. Radman. Madman. Now the thought alone makes me a little dizzy, a little giddy.