Page 57 of Holly Ever After

I glance up, pen poised above the paper, and my gaze meets—oh God, not-so-little-Sean. And he’s doing very little to hide his interest. I avert my eyes, but it's too late. Now we're both aware that I'm aware, and the room somehow feels ten degrees hotter.

I clear my throat, trying my best to ignore the flush coloring my cheeks. “Uh, you need to get dressed.”

He looks down. “I am dressed.”

“You’ve got a blanket…that you’re holding. You’re not even trying to hide yourself. More dressed. More clothes mean more dressed. That’s how it works.”

He laughs. “Fair point. I’ve got a bag with spare clothes in my truck. So, what's second on the list?”

“Hold on, cowboy,” I say, scribblingSean needs to get more dressedat the top of the page. “We need to prioritize. The way I see it, you getting more clothes is contingent upon us getting out of this cottage, which means we need to deal with the snow situation first.”

“So, first on the list should actually be: plan a daring escape from this snow prison so Sean can retrieve his spare clothes from his truck,” he suggests, smirking.

I roll my eyes but jot it down anyway. “Fine. Plan a daring escape from snow prison is now number one.”

He walks over to peer at the notebook, but I quickly close it, hugging it to my chest. “Uh-uh! No peeking. This is top secret, classified information.”

“I didn’t know making a to-do list could be so espionage-esque.”

“Oh, you have no idea. We’re talking James Bond-level planning here.”

He bows dramatically. “I look forward to being both shaken and stirred by your plans, Ms. Bond.”

I can’t help but laugh. Despite the snow, despite the crazy awkwardness of this situation, he has a way of making everything feel lighter, easier. But I shake the thought away. After all, we're still trapped in a snow-covered cottage with no immediate means of escape, and my brother's best friend—who I've just slept with—is practically waving at me with his...

I giggle to myself.

Great, I’ve turned into a teenage girl who can’t say Sean and penis in the same sentence.

God help us indeed.

He disappears into the bedroom, reappearing moments later in the damn Santa suit from last night. The sight of him in that ridiculous outfit brings back a flood of memories that are anything but PG-13.

“You're back in uniform.”

He winks. “Just trying to keep things festive.”

Before I can respond, he pulls on his boots and announces, “Okay, Operation Snow Prison Escape is a go.”

And just like that, he manages to climb out the window and into the wintry abyss. I can't help but wonder how he moves so fast in those boots. A few cold minutes later, he climbs back inside, now carrying a duffel bag.

I eye the bag with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “So, do you always carry extra clothes in your truck or is that just a Sean thing?”

“Jealous, are we?”

My cheeks flush. “No! I just wondered if that's your go-to move when you're sneaking out of...other situations.”

His eyes lock onto mine as he takes a step closer. “The spare clothes are for work.”

“Work?” I gulp, feeling the heat of him as he advances.

“Yeah,” he says, crowding me against the wall, his voice dropping to a whisper. “My job involves getting dirty.”

I swallow hard, fully aware of the innuendo but not daring to acknowledge it.

“And?” I ask, my voice far too breathy.

He leans in even closer, so that his lips are just inches from my ear. “It involves me getting really, really sweaty.”

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