Page 20 of Holidate Scramble
Piper deserved better than a complicated, aging surgeon with a tangle of unresolved responsibilities. She deserved someone uncomplicated, someone whose life wasn't already half-lived.
Yet when I closed my eyes, all I could see was her angelic face in the moment before our lips met—hopeful, wanting, alive in a way that made everything else fade to background noise.
For the first time in my carefully ordered existence, I had no diagnosis, no treatment plan, no clear path forward. All I knew with certainty was that tomorrow I would see her again, anddespite every rational argument to the contrary, I would count the hours until then.
Chapter Five
Piper
I'd been at the harbor skating rink for nearly two hours, hanging fairy lights, setting up the food and beverage station, and arranging donation jars before most volunteers even arrived. Staying busy kept me from obsessing over last night—the way Rhett's mouth had felt against mine, how his strong arms had lifted me onto the table, the heat that had flared between us before we'd agreed to keep things simple.
"Piper? Where do you want these?" One of the local volunteers held up a box of rental skates.
"By the entrance booth." I pointed to the small wooden structure decorated with wreaths. "Size them smallest to largest, left to right."
She gave me a thumbs-up, trudging through the light dusting of snow that had fallen overnight. Perfect weather for the event—cold enough to keep the ice solid, just enough snow to make everything look magical without hindering travel.
The harbor skating rink was Starlight Bay's hidden gem—a wide oval of natural ice that formed in a protected cove, ringed by benches and strung with lights. The town had installed heating lamps and a sound system that now played Christmas carols across the ice.
"Looking good," Mayor Reeves said, appearing beside me in a plush white parka and matching muff. "Advance ticket sales already passed last year's numbers."
"We've been promoting it all week." I straightened a wreath that had tilted. "Plus, the weather's cooperating."
"Indeed. I see your doctor friend made it."
My heart stuttered as I followed her gaze. Rhett stood at the edge of the rink, scanning the crowd. He wore dark jeans and a charcoal sweater under a black wool coat that made him look both distinguished and approachable. His hair was slightly windblown, a contrast to his usual composed appearance.
"He's been helping with all the events," I managed, hoping my voice sounded normal.
"Mmm-hmm." The mayor's knowing smile suggested she was well aware of our purported relationship. "I'll handle the welcome booth. You go say hello."
I agreed silently, suddenly unsure how to approach him after last night. We'd crossed a line, then deliberately stepped back, agreeing to maintain the boundaries we’d set before this whole thing began. What was the protocol for greeting someone after a mind-melting kiss that you'd both decided couldn’t happen again?
He spotted me before I could decide, his posture straightening as his eyes met mine. We met halfway across the snowy ground, stopping just short of touching.
"Hi," I said, brilliantly.
"Hello." He shifted his weight slightly. "Nice turnout."
"Thanks. It's, um, one of our more popular events."
We stood there, the ease of our previous interactions replaced by hyper-awareness. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my waist, the warmth of his breath against my neck.
"About last night—" he began.
