Page 6 of Holidate Scramble
"Of course." I walked with him toward the parking area, our footsteps crunching in the snow. "Thank you for coming. It really helped."
"It wasn't as painful as I expected." The corner of his mouth quirked. "You were right about getting used to this before our more high-pressure events."
We reached his car—a sleek black BMW—and stopped. Snow dusted his hair with white, his breath forming clouds in the cold air.
"We should establish some ground rules," I said.
"Such as?"
"Physical contact. Hand-holding obviously, maybe an arm around my waist for photos. But anything more—"
"Anything more crosses a line," he finished. "This is a professional arrangement, not a relationship."
"Right. Professional." I nodded, ignoring the small twist of disappointment even as I spoke. "No kissing, no mixed signals, no confusion."
"Agreed."
Snow continued falling around us, muffling the town's sounds. I should have said goodnight, walked away. Instead, I stood there looking up at this complicated, dour, yet unexpectedly kind man.
"Goodnight, Rhett," I said.
"Goodnight, Piper."
I watched him drive away, his taillights disappearing into the snowy night.
As I trudged to my car, I made myself a promise: no matter how attractive Rhett Thornton was, no matter how his rare smiles made my stomach flip or how much he cared about his mother made my heart ache—this was only temporary. An agreement to achieve a shared goal. A means to an end.
I absolutely would not fall for my fake boyfriend.
Even if he was already making that resolution impossibly difficult to keep.
Chapter Two
Rhett
Isat in my car outside the Holiday Market, engine running, watching the controlled pandemonium through my windshield. What the hell was I doing here? I had patient charts to review, a surgery scheduled for Monday, and my mother's care schedule to coordinate. Instead, I was about to spend my Saturday morning helping a woman I barely knew make gingerbread houses for charity.
The market sprawled across the town square like Christmas had exploded and nobody bothered to clean it up. Colorful tents clustered together in rows, their peaks draped with an excessive amount of twinkling lights. The crowd moved like a clogged artery—slow, unpredictable, potentially dangerous to navigate. I checked my watch. Nine-thirty. If I left now, I could claim car trouble.
"Rhett!" Piper's voice cut through my escape plan. "You made it!"
She appeared beside my driver's window, having apparently spotted me from across the square. Today's outfit assaulted my retinas—a cherry-red coat over what appeared to be a green sweater covered in tiny reindeer, jeans tucked into boots that had actual bells attached. A headband with glitter caught the morning sun, making her look like an elf who'd raided a craft store.
"I said I'd help," I replied, killing the engine with reluctance.
