Page 45 of My Rival for Christmas

From the moment we got in the truck and Nate greeted me, Snowball tried to claw and bite and cry his way out of his carrier.

My aging, disgruntled pet, who predominantly likes to sleep and eat around me, practically became a different beast entirely at the sound of Nate’s voice.

Feral to be reunited with the true love of his life.

“Yeah, sorry about the surprise. The only way I convinced Kylie to not lock me in the hotel room’s closet was that I’d take Snowball so she could have a little sexy video call with Kev.” Although, now I’m thinking about it, Kylie should’ve tried aliiiiittlebit harder to get me to stay.

Phone sex be damned.

“I don’t mind.” Nate peers down at Snow, rubbing the top of his head with the same finger that ran down his nose, affection clear on his face. I’m not the only one reminiscing on things we’ve lost from the last two years. “I’ve missed him.”

There’s a longing in his voice that I don’t think is directed towards my hedgehog.

A fist tightens around my heart, crushing me. Nate continues to stroke Snowball’s head, oblivious as I’m unable to pull myself away. Snared by his beguiling profile.

He almost kissed me earlier.

Worse, I think I was going to let him.

No, Iwasgoing to let him kiss me. Iwantedhim to kiss me. Wanted to know what his beard would feel like against my skin, what his lips would taste like.

As if this situation isn’t bad enough already. Not only am I snowed in with my rival, but I’m now going to be plagued with that pure brain failure moment from the lake, too.

Because that’s what it is. What it has to be.

My brain simply short-circuited from the emotions he wrung out of me with his pushy questions. Not because I wanted to.

No. I’m not that unwell.

But as I sit here, staring at him tenderly pet my hedgehog, I remember the feel of his thumb brushing against my cheek. The soft, careful stroke and the way it has my body heating up even now.

From just a memory. A whisper of a touch.

I need to get as far from Nate as possible. To dig out one of the boxes I’ve shoved into the recess of my memory, carefully open it wide enough to throw what happened on the lake inside, and then quickly lock it back up. Shoving it away to never deal with again.

As if it doesn’t exist to begin with.

As if it’s nothing.

Because it is—nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“Paige?”

I jump. My butt lands on the hard couch with a harder thud.Ow.

Even Nate winces at the sound. “You okay?”

I resist the urge to rub my throbbing tailbone. “Oh, you know, just peachy. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now than be trapped in this murder cabin with you.”

Just maybe ten hundred million other things.

“Murder cabin?” Nate rubs a hand across his jaw, over his mouth. Trying to hide his amusement. “Who will be the one doing the murdering here? Me or you?”

“You, of course. It’s your cabin.”

“Ah, right. Of course. How silly of me.” His hand is still covering half his mouth. But I can tell how much he’s enjoying this from the rounds of his cheeks and the way his eyes are crinkling. He clears his throat, trying to appear serious. And fails at it. “What if I promise there will be no murders in this cabin?”

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