Page 33 of Tied Up In Tinsel
Something hot curled low in my chest. A flood of warmth—sharp and unsettled—rose through me before I could stop it. Jealousy.
I hated the way it felt, hated even more that Ollie’s teasing struck too close to the truth. Because yes, Brookswasstrong and handsome. More than that, he was magnetic in a way I hadn’t seen coming. The thought of other women in Snowberry Peak noticing what I already knew…well, it twisted something inside me I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.
I waved Ollie off with a flick of my flour-dusted hand and turned back to the counter, pressing my palms into the dough.
“He’ll be gone in a week,” I said lightly, though my voice cracked more than I wanted it to. “So the ladies better get their fill while they can.”
The words felt thin, brittle, like they belonged to someone else. I swallowed hard, hoping Ollie wouldn’t notice the way my shoulders stiffened. Because the truth was, I didn’t wantanyoneto get their fill of Brooks. Not the women down at the general store, not the flirtatious widows who lingered too long at the bakery, not a single soul in this snow-blanketed town.
I wanted him for myself.
I wanted to tie him up with the damn tinsel for my tree to make sure he didn’t go anywhere lingering eyes could find him.
The fantasy hit me square in the chest, and I slammed my fist into the dough a little too hard. A sharpthudrattled across the counter, causing the measuring cups and the little tin of cinnamon sugar to shiver and clink together.
Ollie’s head snapped up. He stared at the dough, then at me, his brows slowly climbing.
“Don’t say a word,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes.
My brother raised both hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wasn’t gonna,” he drawled, though the sparkle in his eyes told me he’d already guessed more than I wanted him to.
Bless him, he didn’t press. He just leaned back against the counter again, humming some off-key Christmas tune, whileI tried to wrestle both the dough and my feelings back into submission.
Annie
I came home from work to the most welcoming thing imaginable—another home-cooked meal filling the house with warmth and mouthwatering aromas.
This.
This was something I was beginning to get dangerously used to.
Usually, it was me scrambling to pull together something “exciting” for dinner, because Ruby had been on a kick lately where sheneededto try new things every night. As a parent, I should have been thrilled she was expanding her palate, but truthfully? It was exhausting.
Brooks, though… somehow he managed to keep up with her whims and make it look effortless.
Kicking off my snow-dusted boots and dropping my purse by the front door, I padded into the kitchen. The soft glow of the string lights we’d hung around the cabinets glimmered off the polished counter, giving the room a festive, cozy warmth. Brooks stood at the stove, broad shoulders relaxed, a wooden spoon in his hand. Steam rose from the pot in front of him, carrying the rich scent of butter and garlic.
I leaned around him, peeking into the pot. Mashed potatoes. Creamy, smooth, perfectly whipped.
“That smells delicious,” I murmured, stepping close and sliding my hands to his sides.
Brooks glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk that made my knees weaken.
“Ruby picked this dinner out,” he said. “She even helped me peel all the potatoes. Diced them, too—with the kid-safe knife I bought her at the store today.”
I narrowed my eyes, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. “What did I say about buying her things?”
He turned back to the pot, shrugging innocently. “You should’ve seen her face. I didn’t stand a chance.”
I groaned, rubbing my hands up and down his sides. “Oh no. She’s got you right where she wants you.”
His low chuckle rumbled through his chest, and the sound spread heat through me.
“Speaking of,” I asked, “where is she?”
“In her room. Watching a video on her tablet.”
“Perfect.”
