Page 27 of Hostile for the Holidays

That sounds like a bad idea. It’s one thing to try to convince Daniel, who doesn’t know Jasper’s and my history, but I don’t know that I’m ready to take our fake relationship out in such a public place. Things between us are intense, maybe now more than ever, as I try to figure out what that almost-kiss means. How are we going to convince our old classmates that we’ve patched things up and started dating of all things?

Before I can turn down the invitation, Jasper answers for me.

“We’ll be there.”

The Merry Moose is a favorite hangout spot in Cedar Hollow. Its décor changes with the season and my favorite time of year is when it’s decked out in holly and strands of lights with large, vintage-style colored bulbs. Wreaths are hung on the walls, ornaments dangle in rows from the ceiling, and the large mahogany bar is lit up red and green beneath the bar top.

In the back of the bar there are two pool tables, a dart board, and a Skee-Ball game that I currently hold the record for the highest score on.

The moment I walk through the front door, it’s cozy and warm, with Christmas music playing beneath the buzz of people’s conversations. I’m happy I came.

Jasper walks in behind me, and helps me out of my coat, hanging it on one of the many hooks on the wall by the door.

After I adjust my sweater and hair, I turn back to the bar and the whole place is staring at us.

We’re like exotic animals at the zoo. Jasper and Stella out in the wild. Never seen before. Or at least not like this.

Jasper clasps my hand in his and pulls me forward. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Our forward motion snaps everyone back into their conversations yet I can still feel eyes on us as we make our way to the bar.

Beside me, Jasper’s shoulder brushes mine. The contact shouldn’t be unnerving. It’s a simple shoulder brush. Two sweaters rubbing up against each other. But combined with the depth of his hazel gaze on me and the way his scent—warm, yet fresh like mint and cool mountain air—wraps itself around me, I’m hyperaware of how every cell in my body is reacting to him.

I fight against every single one of those cells, and stiffen in response.

“Why are you so close?” I ask, annoyance seeming to be my only way to handle this new development.

“When you like someone, you want to stand close to them,” Jasper whispers.

I cough out a laugh. “So, you can see why this would be a struggle for me.”

His confident smile doesn’t waver. “Then we’ll practice.”

Jasper shifts his body behind mine, caging me in against the bar.

Maybe if I suck in, I can create more space between us. But suck in what? My front is already pressed firmly against the bar. My butt?

I squeeze my cheeks together, but the action only makes my glute muscles swell, lifting and extending my ass outward. The opposite of my desired outcome.

Sucking in your butt isn’t a thing because it’s just there existing behind you, and the only thing it can do is flex or relax.

“Are you flexing your butt?” he asks.

“You wish,” is my only comeback.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman who has stood next to men before.

Not Jasper Jensen,my oh so helpful brain retorts.

So, I give up and let my butt exist in the miniscule space between us.

He lifts one hand off the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and the shift in movement has his front brushing against my back, his black denim-clad crotch skimming against my ass. It’s only a graze, and yet my body reacts like he put his hand between my thighs.

Jasper Jensen, my longtime rival and the bane of my existence, has stirred something inside of me, and that something is now on the outside.

I’m hot. I’m achy. And my underwear needs to be changed. AGAIN.

I’m so startled by the sensation, I drop the glass of water I’d just filled from the water station in my hand and it spills all over the bar.

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