Page 26 of Santa's Girl
BEAR
Itold myself I wasn’t attracted to her.
Couldn’t be.
Becca was exactly what I didn’t need—city shoes that didn’t belong on snow, a voice too bright for a place like this, and enough holiday cheer to make my molars ache. She was trouble, strung up in twinkle lights and good intentions.
I’d kept my distance all night. Or tried to.
But the second I saw Jinx leaning in close, making her laugh like that, something twisted in my gut. Her laugh—it wasn’t annoying like I’d expected. It was light. Clear. Like bells, almost. Didn’t belong in a bar like this. Didn’t belong in my world at all.
I told myself it was just the noise. Just Jinx acting like a jackass. Just a distraction.
But then she bent over the pool table to line up a shot, and every guy in the room watched her like they had a right to. My hand tightened around my glass. Jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
I wasn’t jealous.
I was pissed.
At Jinx.
At this whole damn setup.
At myself most of all.
And when Wolf laid his hands on her like she was some kind of prize—something in me snapped. Hot and sharp, like a fuse burning too fast. Before I knew what I was doing, I was across the floor, pulling her away from the noise and the crowd and the heat of it all.
Few words came out of my mouth:Time to go.
Now I was in bed, staring at the dark ceiling while the fire downstairs crackled low. The cabin creaked with wind and settling logs. I should’ve been asleep hours ago, but all I could see was her face. Those bright eyes. That stubborn chin. Like she was still right there in the room with me.
Then came the sound—soft, barely there—the bathroom door clicking shut. Water running.
I shut my eyes. Swore under my breath.
The air shifted. Subtle, but I noticed. Something warm. Vanilla. Maybe her lotion. Or her shampoo. Something sweet and wintery that didn’t belong out here, but clung to the air anyway. I told myself it was just in my head, that the scent got caught in the wood or the sheets or something.
Didn’t help.
I rolled onto my back. Stared into nothing.
This—this was why I didn’t let people close.
Because it only took one laugh. One look.
One storm-stranded woman in my cabin, and my head was a damn mess.
I turned to the wall and muttered, “Should’ve left her in the damn snow.”
But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. Oh a sigh, I got out of bed, pulled on my jeans and headed downstairs to the fireplace, ghosts and whiskey.
I smiled into the glass, a humorless twitch.
I’m the richest man in western North Carolina, not that anyone would guess. The Boone land stretches from one ridge to the next—what’s left of it, anyway. The town down below, the hospitals, the subdivisions… all of it was once ours. Sold off piece by piece by folks who didn’t understand what they were giving away.
But not this mountain.
Never this mountain.
