Page 32 of Evergreen Christmas

At the sound of Jordyn’s soft voice, he stilled, opened his eyes, and drank in the sight of her as she sat down opposite him at the table.

Jordyn’s deep green eyes held his gaze for a moment; then she smiled. “How are you today?”

Clearing his throat, he casually propped his elbows on the table and adopted a relaxed tone. “Good.”

“Did you sleep well last night?” she asked softly, wiggling her eyebrows.

His cheeks burned. “Yes. W-why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged. “I just thought that with all that snowball throwing, your arm might’ve gotten sore. You were quite the defender of my honor, you know.”

His shoulders relaxed and a deep chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “I’m not quite old enough yet to get sore after a short snowball fight, even though I may have a few years on you.”

She tilted her head. “And how old are you exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Thirty. You?”

“Twenty-five.” She grinned. “So, you got five years on me.”

“Good to know.” He imitated a serious expression. “I’ll take it easy on you today, kiddo.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to go easy on me.” Leaning forward, she slid her hands across the table and rested them, palms flat on the table, on either side of his elbows. “Maybe I want you to give me a run for my money. What would you say to that?”

Something had shifted in her tone. Instead of the light, teasing note, a dangerous hint of challenge had entered her voice, as though she wanted something from him. Something he might not be able to give.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said cautiously.

She leaned even closer, her face mere inches from his, then glanced around, noticing the interested looks of others who sat near them. “Hey.” She crooked her finger in a come-hither gesture and when he leaned closer, whispered in his ear, “What if I wanted you to compete with me in this competition to the best of your ability?”

“I’d say, I’d be happy to do that,” he whispered back, struggling to focus on forming a complete sentence rather than the soft waves of her hair that tickled his cheek. “I do, after all, want to win.”

“And,” she whispered again, “what if I wanted you to give me a run for my money outside of the Christmas competition?”

His heart kicked his ribs, and a wave of need rolled through him, weakening his legs and prompting him to sag onto the table, closer to her. “I don’t understand.”

Her hands had slid a bit closer across the table, her fingertips brushing the sleeves of his shirt. He swallowed hard, licked his lips and glanced around the table where the onlookers who’d been interested in their conversation had lost interest and directed their attention elsewhere.

“What if I told you that I’m interested in you?” she asked, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That even though we haven’t known each other long at all, I’ve enjoyed every moment I’ve spent with you so far and would like to be near you more? That I find you intriguing and attractive? And that instead of being friendly enemies, once this Christmas competition is over, I’d very much like to explore being friendly neighbors and maybe something more? What would you say if I asked you that?”

He froze, his breath stalling his lungs.

Every cell in his body urged him to say yes, that he’d welcome the chance to explore a relationship with her. That he wanted to test this chemistry between them thoroughly, to find out exactly how strong these emotions he had for her were and how much more intense they might grow.

But his gaze shifted over Jordyn’s shoulder and focused on Roxie, who still stood by Tucker’s side, laughing out loud at something he said and taking another bite of her candy apple, an expression of joy enveloping her cute face.

Right now, Roxie was happy, safe and secure in the knowledge that he and Tucker would be there for her every day, all day, for the rest of her life. She didn’t fear the future or worry things might change on a whim—things that might occur should he upset the status quo he’d worked so hard to build. Roxie’s days at the ranch were fun but predictable and filled with memories of a mother who, even though they’d never had a chance to meet, had loved her more than life itself. And those memories were especially important this time of year.

At the thought of Macy and all she’d lost—all that had been stolen from her, Nate sat back, a wave of guilt and regret rushing through him as he put distance between himself and Jordyn. He looked up reluctantly, barely able to meet her eyes.

“I’m afraid I’d have to say,” he whispered, “that I’m not available.”

The words he’d chosen were simple—polite and benign—but they had an unexpectedly harsh impact on her.

The rosy color in her cheeks drained, the teasing light in her eyes died and a wounded expression appeared on her pretty face.

“Jordyn . . .” He lifted one hand in appeal. “I only meant—”

“I know what you meant.” She smiled, though the act was insincere.

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