Page 26 of A Cozy Holiday
“Can you make sure your daughters don’t post that video?” I say, nudging Jamie’s arm.
“Already taken care of,” Jamie says.
“They could probably run your social media account.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could teach me.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I tease.
“You strapped on snowshoes, threw yourself down a hill, and agreed to be my daughters’ makeup artist. I don’t think you’re afraid of a little work.”
“Fair point.” My pulse pitter-patters every time his mustache twitches. “I already told you my plan. Shirtless with baby animals. That’s what gets engagement.” I lift my phone, like I’m actually considering taking the photo. The light’s perfect, golden hour turning everything soft and hazy. The twins are silhouettes running through the snow ahead of us. Pine trees line the edge of the shot. His ridiculous cowboy hat catches the last rays of sun.
He’s annoyingly photogenic, all chiseled jawline and hooded, kind eyes and the type of rugged that comes from actual physical labor, not a five-hundred-dollar gym membership.
He leans in to whisper in my ear. “You offering to take those photos?”
“No.”
Maybe.
Probably.
Absolutely, if he keeps standing this close to me. Because my heart may want to stay for the reindeer. But my body? My body has other motivations.
Chapter 7
All Work and No Play?
29 Days Until I Can Go Back to Work
I spentmost of the night wondering if Jamie would lead me to his bed if I knocked on his door. Just for one night, would he let me forget everything except my own pleasure and what it feels like to be wanted?
At four a.m., I decide that I’ve lain in bed, sexually frustrated, for long enough.
Jamie told me to meet him at the barn at eight, but I may as well get the lay of the land now. I wrap Jubilee in my sweater, grab my laptop and my stethoscope, and trudge through the snow.
Jamie’s house is still dark, but when I push into the barn, the lights are already on. A few reindeer grunt, scraping their hooves and antlers against the metal gates. I can’t do anything useful until my supplies arrive—no samples, no tests—so I drift toward a free stall where I can store Jubilee.
That’s when Jamie leaps out of Arrietty’s pen like some kind of six-foot jack-in-the-box cowboy. “You’re here already?”
I startle so hard that Jubilee goes limp in my arms.
“Oh my god, is she all right?” he asks. There’s sweat shining along his hairline, and his shirt is clinging to places I should not be noticing before sunrise.
“She passes out with loud noises.”
By the time I settle her into the stall, she’s already rousing, blinking up at me likeI’mthe problem.
“Is she a rescue?”
“Yep. A patient brought her in, and I could tell she wasn’t taken care of. So, I offered to keep her. He didn’t put up a fight.” I brush my hands off. “What can I do?”
“I’m just cleaning stalls and feeding before I take the girls to school.”
“Point me to a pitchfork.”
“You don’t have to.”
