Page 25 of Unwrapped

“I know. But it’s damn fun riling his ass up, right?”

She rolls her eyes as I drop a peck on her lips. “This whole MC is nothing but a bunch of teenage boys pretending to be bad-ass brawlers.”

“Oh, we ain’t pretending sugar, we are.”

“Darren!” Rog stands with his hands on his hips, “Meet me in the pit after close. We’ll handle this like grown men.”

“No. Dev rolls her eyes again. “Santa can’t show with a split lip and a shiner.”

“How do you figure he’d win?” I splay my hands on my chest feigning being hurt.

“Because my man is a tank and the only pit you’ve been in is a boardroom full of vipers.”

My lips twitch. “He tells you everything doesn’t he?”

She places a warm hand on my forearm. “He does. Don’t hate the holidays, Dare.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Maybe this one will change your mind.”

“Doubtful.”

Rog grabs her by the elbow leaving the smell of her—vanilla and sugar lingering behind. He pulls her into his arms and kisses her thoroughly flipping me the bird behind her back.

Lucky bastard.

In this moment I feel as if one of the icicles hanging outside stabbed me right through the heart. I’m always the one on the outside looking in. I’ve never had someone special to share one holiday with. Sure, I had plenty of fucks and drunken kisses at midnight but none of them meant shit.

I turn away from them and look out the window. The sky’s clear. And just like I did when I lived here a long time ago, I stare up at the north star and wish for shit I’ve never had.

4

Shiloh

UGH.

I hate myself. Because Mr. Dickhead was hot. He was everything I’ve learned to hate in a man after swearing to myself I won’t fall for cocky-hothole-Armani-wearing-jerks again. An arrogant businessman who only cares about securing his next deal. I sized him up in three seconds. When he decided to take his call and turn his back, I didn’t waste my chance to jump the line. I’m done waiting around. Like my time isn’t valuable.

I hated him on sight. He was perfect. Sexy. Everything that always makes my knees weak and leaves pieces of my heart in a paper shredder. He had dark hair trimmed short in the back and longer on the front. His eyes were the color of my favorite suede. A hue between taupe, earth and buttercream. His teeth were perfect and straight, white as snow… and his lips were full for a man’s without being overly so. But his jaw. It was chiseled as fuck. Strong. Manly. Butterflies raced along my spine when he turned, giving me his full attention.

Rolling my eyes at how pathetic I am for sniffing the collar of his coat for the fiftieth time, I turn down the lane to the inn as my sexy GPS man tells me to turn. I changed the settings to give it a male British accent.

The sound of him telling where to go combined with the musky male scent coming of the stranger’s coat already has me wishing I’ll find a romance this holiday. I’m hoping Springdale is the place I’ll find him. My hot, sext lumberjack slash MC bad boy tatted up and ready to carry me off to his log cabin…

“Wow.”

In front of me is the Maple Tree Inn and Spa. A candle glows in every window. An Evergreen wreath hangs on the door with a bright red bow. Strands of white lights nestled in thick garland hang in swooping scoops and gathered with bows at the top as it runs along a fifty-foot porch. The snow crunches under the tires of the SUV as I brake. Humming “Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” under my breath I get out and breath the fresh cold air as deep as I can. It fills up my lungs, energizing me; making me feel as if anything is possible. Even Christmas miracles like actually finding a decent man to sip hot toddy’s by the fire with.

The sky is clear, and a million stars are out. One shines brighter than the rest. “I just want to be happy. Please,” I whisper, swiping a tear from the corner of my eye. Who knows if anyone is even up there to hear my tiny plea? My shoulders sag. Poor little rich, girl. Right? I have a condo on the beach, enough money to live comfortably… I have more than most and yet…I still feel empty inside.

The front door opens before my hand touches the knob. “Welcome! I’m so glad you’re here. I need an extra set of hands in the kitchen.”

“Wh-at?”

“Don’t stand there gaping, all the cold air is getting in.” She jerks me forward and shoves a candy-cane apron into my arms.

“I’m sorry. You must be mistaken. I’m Shiloh… here to check in.”

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