Page 40 of The Mistletoe Bluff
Oliver snorted. “Is that your idea of affection?”
“I’m holding your hand. What more do you want?”
As if my words were a challenge, a spark flashed in his eyes, and he tugged my arm so that I was in front of him, my back to his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on the top of my head.
“Thisis what couples do,” he murmured. “None of that teenage holding hands stuff.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with holding your hand.”
“Maybe not, but you won’t convinceanyonethat we’re in love with that.”
I sighed, my breath clouding the air. I hated that he was right, but it was hard to get past my reservations about him and put on a show. I was hesitant, not because I hated him, but because I was afraid of what would happen to my feelings if I took things further.
I didn’t want to have feelings for Oliver Lewis. I had my future to think about—there wasn’t time for feelings. Besides, I wasn’t about to risk my heart when the two people who were supposed to love me the most had abandoned me.
Oliver would be no different. He’d go back to England, leaving me behind. My life was here.Letting myself develop feelings for him would be dangerous. And touching and pretending to be a couple confused that determination to keep my distance.
But even so, pretending to be in love with my enemy was much easier than it should’ve been.
Trying to rewire my brain to not think Oliver was a villain was hard but hating him was no longer feeling natural. It almost required more effort to continue despising him.
But even more frustrating than finding it difficult to hate Oliver was that faking thephysicalpart of the relationship was…natural. The more I touched him, fell into him, even pulling our gloves off to lace my fingers between his…it was all as easy as breathing.
Even the jolt that went through me at our skin touching felt normal.
But that was absurd because I didn’t evenlikeOliver Lewis.
…Right?
I’d been so convinced that Oliver was a terrible person, taking what he wanted, when he wanted, without regard for anyone else. Never had I expected there to be a decent person beneath that smug smile and those Clark Kent glasses. Never would I have expected to encounter the deep and kind man that he was proving to be.
But I had to remember that I was just using him to gain an advantage in the photography competition. None of this was real. It couldn’t be.
Not even if the warmth of Oliver’s arms around me, holding me tight, was one of the best things I had experienced in years.
“I’ll have this wrapped up in a jiffy and I’ll meet you over by your car to help get it secured,” Leaf announced, ripping me from my thoughts as he pulled out a long spool of red string.
Oliver nodded his appreciation before guiding me back to the parking lot. He hadn’t released his hold on me.
“We’re not seriously going to walk all the way back there like this,” I said, irritated. Our boots kept getting tangled together as we walked.
“Why not?”
I looked up at him. “This is ridiculous. Let me go.”
Challenge flashed in his eyes. “As you wish.”
The weight of his arms disappeared, and I fell face first into the snow.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to smack the smug smile off Oliver’s face.
“What the heck was that?” I cried, flipping over to glare at him.
“You said let go.”
I pushed to my feet and got in his face. “You weren’t supposed to let me fall on my face!”
His smirk said he was enjoying this way too much. He shrugged. “You said let go. You didn’t ask me to catch you.”
