Page 18 of Catching the Mistletoe

I dragged my gaze away, back over the ocean, rubbing my hand over my chest, where my heart squeezed, hard and painful. “You’re welcome.”

We stood there for a while. I couldn’t say how long, then Arabella said, “I’m hungry.”

Well, that broke the spell. “Let’s see what there is to eat, then.”

CHAPTER9

Arabella

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here for dinner,” Mack said, pulling open the fridge door.

As he bent down to rummage through the shelves, I caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from the back of his shirt. Swirling lines and shapes that I couldn’t quite make out but wanted to trace with my fingertips. I blinked, pushing the thought away.

“There’s chicken and vegetables here. You want fajitas?”

“Sure, fajitas sound great,” I managed to say, even though my voice felt a bit strangled. “I can help cut up the veggies if you wanna do the chicken.”

“Sure.”

Why was this simple moment making my heart race? We were just two people making dinner, but somehow, it felt like so much more. It was just dinner, but also, it wasn’t just dinner. It was our first dinner on this journey, our first real moment alone, and the intimacy of it all was staggering. Dinner had suddenly become this big, overwhelming thing that I was, of course, massively overthinking. Fuuuuuck. It was just chicken. Don’t go making it weird on the very first night of the whole trip.

I tried to focus on chopping the bell peppers, but my hands were shaky.

“Here. Let me.” Mack took over, his fingers deftly slicing through the vegetables as if he’d done it a million times. It looked really hot, and I wasn’t talking about the chillies.

Mack got the oil going while I seasoned the chicken, finding my groove as I focused on the spices. We shuffled around the tight kitchen, a quiet two-step of slicing and stirring.

Once the chicken started hissing in the pan, the RV filled up with smells that made my stomach growl.

Our eyes caught across the stove, and for a heartbeat, it was just us and a charged stillness. Then we had to flip the chicken, and the moment just popped like a bubble.

We ate mostly without talking, the kind of silence that you know is hiding all the big things we weren’t saying. The minute my plate was clean, I felt this itch to clear the air, to tear down the wall of quiet we’d put up around us.

“I’m going for a swim,” I blurted out. So much easier than conversing like adults.

“You what?” Mack looked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head.

“You heard me.” A grin stretched across my face. “I’ve never been to the Pacific Ocean before and I don’t know where we’re heading to tomorrow. This could be my one and only chance. You coming with?”

“Fuck no. It’ll be freezing.”

“Chicken.”

“Fuck off.”

His mock indignation only made me smile wider. I pushed away from the table, unceremoniously dumping my plate in the sink and turning back to him. Leaning against the counter, I folded my arms. “You told my mom you’d watch out for me, yeah?”

He huffed out a breath, clearly caught between annoyance and amusement. “Yeah.”

“Can’t do it from here, can you?” And without waiting for an answer, I walked out of the RV, the call of the ocean pulling me like a magnet. The moon was fat and white, casting a stream of light across the waves.

I glanced over my shoulder, just to check. Sure enough, there he was, standing under the exterior light of the RV with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching me. A strange thrill coursed through me at the sight. I turned back to the ocean, my heart thumping wildly, a mix of excitement and nerves.

I stripped down to my underwear right there on the sand. It felt liberating, like shedding a layer of inhibition I didn’t even know I was wearing. The air was chilly against my skin, but I felt unusually warm, as if Mack’s gaze had turned into a hot caress, making every inch of my skin tingle.

Gathering my courage, I walked toward the water. The sound of waves crashing seemed to cheer me on. And the whole time, I could feel him watching, could almost feel the weight of his eyes tracing the curve of my shoulders, the sway of my hips.

For a split second, I hesitated at the edge of the water, wondering if this was a good idea or absolute stupidity. Fuck it. I said I was born ready, and I meant it.

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