Page 45 of The Hanukkah Hoax
She twisted her lips, which had turned pouty and pink from the cold. “Maybe.”
“Don’t be. Besides,” he said, grinning, “as you carefully pointed out, we haven’t yet defined any ground rules. We’ve not broken anything because there’s nothing in place to break.”
“This all just feels so messy at times.”
Hmm. Messy. Not sure he liked that word, at least in the context she meant it. “How so?”
“Well, today has been a flurry of ups and downs that would put anyone out of their right mind. The supply of extract I was relying on for my treat boxes isn’t available, but then I met Hugh, and thanks to his charm?—”
“And mine.”
“Of course.” She patted his bicep in reassurance. “But thanks to that, we got all this wonderful exposure from the animal rescue event. Then Hugh ran off, and I tripped all over you?—”
“I grabbed you so you’d land on me and not the other way round.”
“I guess,” she mumbled, and he did not like the shift in her tone, the one that was filled with indecisiveness and her ever-present worry. “But then you and he were okay, and we both don’t exactly seem in a hurry to more solidly structure the framework of whatever the hell we’re doing.”
“Ah. I understand.”
She glanced up at him, her big eyes searching for something he worried he’d let shine through without meaning to. “Really? You do?”
“I do. It’s all just . . . nice.”
She stilled and stared blankly at him. Then smiled and echoed, “Nice?”
“Yeah, nice. Like after we first kissed. You were the one who said it was nice, if I recall.”
“Oh, yeah. I did say that.”
“See? You were right from the start. You’re not the least bit messy.” Then she snorted and buried her forehead against his chest, pulling at his coat lapels for support, or a shield, if he had to guess, but before she could start spewing whatever counterargument her mind was surely working through, he tacked on, “That’s how I know you’re human. Muddling through all this is part of what makes the journey so beautiful, even if you can’t see quite where you’ll end up or how you’ll get there just yet.”
He hadn’t expected to be hit so hard by his statement, but he couldn’t very well ignore the truth that he’d just dangled above them like bloody mistletoe.
Marisa’s slim arms squeezed him tighter around his middle, pushing warmth into his core and clearing away the haze that had threatened to take over. “When all this is over, would it really be so bad for you to join Argentina if you got to keep on playing and doing what you love?”
Oh, sweet, beautiful woman. How on earth was he supposed to make sure she was keeping her head above the fray when she went and robbed his thoughts from where they’d rather be? On her. Around her. Just about her.
“I haven’t decided yet. But there’s no need to worry. Brennan has it all in hand, and the awareness I’m drumming up is doing exactly what it needs to do,” he lied. “It’ll all work out in the end.”
“That sounds messy.”
Messy. The damn word was quickly becoming the bloody tagline of their whole affair.
He poked her side, tickling her a bit and making her squirm. “Quiet, you. We’ve got more important things to discuss, like those ground rules.”
“Ground rules,” she repeated as she came down from a laugh that was also thick with an alluring sigh.
And then his own fucking ground rules changed right quick.
She huddled closer against him, and his body thrilled at how perfectly she fit in the cage of his arms. How her scent seemed to meld with the fragrances of the forest, pulling up primal urges and making him wonder just how nice other things would be, things that definitely had no place in the sort of agreement they had.
Alec dipped his head lower, testing the space between them. When she didn’t pull away, he brushed her hair to the side, enjoying the wee patch of her neck still visible. She was quite bundled up, as she should be, but that didn’t stop him from imagining further.
Tasting her. Kissing her there, right at the tiny hollow behind her ear.
“Marisa,” he breathed against her neck. “Regarding ground rules . . .”
“Yes?” The word was more of a sigh than a question.
