Eleven
Isla
T he icy wind brushes frosty kisses against my cheeks as I climb the gazebo steps. Stretching onto my tiptoes, I pluck one of the red-and-white-striped envelopes dangling from the garland-wrapped posts.
“Final clue?” Asher calls from below, his voice steeped in optimism. After an hour of full-throttle scavenging, his enthusiasm has taken a nosedive.
“You wish. We’re only about halfway through.” I tug the paper free and scan the words on the card, my breath fogging the air. “You’re the one who signed us up for this couple’s challenge. Didn’t you read the fine print?”
My partner doesn’t respond. He’s already stepping ahead, his attention bouncing from his phone screen to the antique shop down the street.
“I’ve gotta make a quick detour,” he says as I catch up to him. His tone is casual, almost aloof, but the tension in his furrowed brow gives him away.
“Sienna?” As if I need to ask.
“She…we…” He rubs his forehead, eyes glassy and unfocused. “I need to see her.”
I fold my arms, carefully weighing my words. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I bite back the reminder that his ex is getting married in a matter of days. That particular countdown is surely burned into his brain.
He meets my gaze. “It’s important.”
“Okay.” I offer a sympathetic nod. “Understood.” Whatever is happening between the two of them is bigger than the town’s annual Holly & Heart Holiday Hunt. “I won’t ask questions, but I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Thanks, Lala.” He squeezes my shoulder before starting toward The Starlight Vault. “I owe you!”
“A whole-ass trophy!” I call after him, though we both know the prize would just collect dust in the back of one of our closets. Evangeline and Graham—who proudly add a new award to their mantel every year—would disown us if they got wind of our apathy toward the competition.
I pause to watch him disappear down the street before turning to shrug at my reflection in one of the store windows.
While I wasn’t expecting to be abandoned mid-hunt, I’m not devastated to tackle the rest of the mission solo.
The faster I finish, the sooner I can snag a coveted Snowy S’more treat from one of the vendors at the springs .
They’re only seasonal, and I’ve been dreaming about them since last Christmas.
Taking a deep, centering breath, I turn my attention to the clue in my hand.
A place where Grandma’s secrets swirl,
Recipes to make your taste buds twirl.
Seek the crooked grin, one of a kind—
Sweetness, family, and love you’ll find.
I can’t help but laugh. The Rotary Club members responsible for penning the riddles clearly had a blast playing Shakespeare. Not that I fault them for making it cheesy—or easy. The game is all in good fun, its main goal being to highlight the town’s businesses.
Next stop: Sugarpine Sweets.
My walk down the bustling Main Street strip is a brisk one. I’m just a few feet from the bakery’s entrance when the toe of my boot catches on a loose cobblestone.
I stumble, yelping as my hands shoot out to brace for impact.
Before I can hit the ground, a strong arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me against something solid.
No— someone solid.
“Careful,” a deep voice murmurs, his words coasting over the top of my head.
My pulse skips as a familiar scent surrounds me. Woodsy and laced with the sting of winter’s chill, it carries a dark, intimate note that sinks through me.
Theo’s presence nudges against me in a way that’s both grounding and destabilizing.
“I’ve got you.” The words roll off his tongue and slip under my skin.
I shiver despite myself.
“Do I strike you as some swooning damsel who needs getting ?” As I elbow his chest to dislodge myself, my stupid knees decide this is the perfect moment to buckle.
The corners of Theo’s lips twitch.
“Never mind.” I groan, trying to save face. And my ass. “Don’t answer that.”
“I’m releasing you now,” he says, then contradicts himself by keeping us locked in place for a moment longer.
And then another heartbeat more.
When he finally steps back, taking his warmth with him, I instantly grieve the loss.
Silly Isla.
“You okay?” Genuine concern threads through his question.
“Yeah.” Straightening my shoulders, I focus on smoothing out the front of my coat. “Fine. Wonderful. Perfect.”
“Where’s Ash?” Theo asks, glancing around.
“With Sienna,” I blurt out before realizing how it sounds. “Not… uhh …cheating or anything,” I add, mostly for Asher’s benefit.
He lets out a cynical huff. “I’m sure.”
The weight of his scrutiny makes me feel itchy all over, so I dash off into the bakery without another word.
Holly greets me at the counter, wearing a friendly grin and holding out an envelope adorned with silver and white polka dots. She tops it off with a miniature Winter Wonderland cupcake.
I’m mid-bite when Theo appears beside me, just in time for her to hand him a matching treat. “Your girl has the clue,” she says, gesturing to me. “Good luck!”
I swallow, then raise a finger in protest. “Actually, we’re not—”
“Thanks,” Theo cuts in, flashing a warm, entirely un -Theo-like smile her way before looking down at me. “Ready, partner?”
He plucks the envelope from my hand and strides for the door. I glare after him as the shop floods with other scavengers. By the time I weave through the crowd, he’s already outside.
And he’s… waiting ?
“What is this?” I demand, stomping over.
Frustration propels me forward until I’m so close, the tips of our boots nearly kiss.
Theo leans in, breaching all remaining distance between us. “Open,” he says, holding out his untouched cupcake.
I blink up at him.
“ Open ,” he repeats.
This time, his voice is sharper. Sterner. The word slides down my spine and settles between my legs, chasing friction.
Oh, no .
When he presses the sugary treat to my lips, the treacherous things part without waiting for clearance from my brain.
As quickly as the madness rises, I snap my mouth shut, pulse thrashing against my throat.
“I…don’t…want…it,” I mumble through clenched teeth.
“Two options, Sunshine. Keep lying to us both…” He holds the cupcake steady between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my chin up with the middle one. “Or put that mouth to be tter use.” His eyes burn into mine. “Open wide. Quit denying yourself.”
Everything inside me pulls tighter at the command. I squirm under his gaze, unable to keep still as my skin flushes. If the heat is any indication, I must be the color of mulled wine.
When I let him into my mouth, I tell myself it’s for science . The secret recipe has me in a chokehold. It’s irresistible. Totally worth screwing over whatever shred of dignity I had left.
I savor the moment, dragging the cupcake across my lips before closing them around it. As the flavor melts on my tongue, my lashes lower and I indulge in what can only be described as foreplay with the frosting.
So good. So, so good.
Above me, Theo makes a rough noise deep in his throat.
My eyes snap open when his thumb swipes across my bottom lip.
“Icing,” he grunts, exhaling harshly.
Acting on instinct, I lick at the spot, tongue grazing his finger.
He rips his hand away like I’ve just burned it.
Good . That’s what he gets for force-feeding me treats.
Not that I was protesting, but still .
“You could’ve just eaten it yourself and spared us the awkwardness,” I hiss, attempting to claw back some semblance of control.
He tilts his head. “Oh, is this awkward for you?” His breathing is ragged, but his voice remains smooth as sin.
“Very.” I pause, willing my hammering heart to slow down.
Yeah, it’s awkward .
But it’s also… hot .
Of course, I’d rather be trampled by a herd of reindeer than admit that being fed and fondled by Theo has the same effect as being wired into a string of cheap Christmas lights. Too many sparks—the fire-starting, hazardous kind.
Shit.
“It would’ve been wasted on me,” he says gruffly, as if trying to justify his behavior. “I don’t like sugar.”
“Only monsters hate sugar,” I jab, forcing lightness into my voice despite the flutter in my chest.
“Then I must be a monster.” Just when I imagine our conversation taking a darker path, he veers it completely off-course. Leaning in, his breath coasts over my lips as he adds, “A monster you allowed into your mouth.”
Mind fried, I’m suddenly all out of smart-ass retorts.
“But just so you don’t think I’m a complete beast,” he says, pulling back, “I’ll grace you with my partnership for the rest of the hunt.”
“I thought you said this game was ridiculous,” I point out, recalling how he’d scowled at Asher earlier when his brother announced we were signed up for the hunt. “And that you had a full day of work ahead.”
“It’s painfully ridiculous. And yes, I’m drowning in emails. But clearly, you’re in need of a second, so I might as well collect a prize while I’m at it.”
“Tacky trophies are your thing now?”
“Of course not. But there may be other prizes I can claim along the way.” He holds my gaze for a beat before turning away. “Come on, Sunshine,” he calls over his shoulder, an all-too-familiar hint of challenge lacing through his words. “Let’s play.”
I hate that I follow. I despise how eagerly I do it.
But most of all, I worry that this thing—whatever it may be—is quickly turning into a game with no rules.