Page 23 of Winter Wishlist
I fear I like it far too much for my own good. Especially considering the fact that the clock is already ticking on the moment my carriage becomes a pumpkin and I return to boring old reality.
This cowboy is so unbelievably smooth with the whole act he’s putting on. Wetting his bottom lip ever so slowly with the glide of his tongue, his focus doesn’t stray, not even for one second. If I knew any better—if I wasn’t so swept up in this, teetering precariously on the edge of a free-fall—I’d say the whole world around us has ceased to exist. Right now, all that registers is our little bubble for two. There aren’t other guests staying at this ranch. There are no couples posing for photographs by the opulent and oversized tree. There are no peals of laughter occasionally drifting over the top of the soft music playing.
It’s just me, and him, and my racing heartbeat as I reach out to take the champagne flute from his outstretched hand.
Our fingertips brush, and I almost gasp at the sensation that hits me out of nowhereagain. The visceral reaction in my body is one of a woman possessed. Heat flares low in my core, my clit pulses with need, and there’s no ignoring the way my breasts feel fuller, heavier with arousal.
After this champagne, I’m cutting myself off. Because I’m liable to turn into a complete fool. Any more alcohol frolicking in my blood could result in me doing the unthinkable and throwing myself at this cowboy. Which, in turn, would mean I’d need to promptly hurl myself off the nearest mountain cliff.
“Here, take a seat. We’ve got this little corner to ourselves.” Reid pulls a stool out for me and offers a hand to help me up. A simple act, he does easily, as if it’s ingrained in his nature, and he does this kind of thing all the time without so much as a second thought. God, his country gentleman manners are something else. I have to keep picking my jaw up off the floorover simple acts. Clearly, my standards have been lowered to expecting nothing more than dregs sloshing around the bottom of the barrel.
“Th—thank you,” I stammer.
“Why do your eyes say something entirely different?” His brow furrows. “Don’t tell me I managed to do something wrong already…”
“Of course not.” Reaching out on reflex, I touch his forearm. He promptly claims my hand, taking the opportunity to keep it firmly tucked between his palms, and God help me if I don’t nearly tip sideways off this damn barstool.
“Then tell me what’s going through your mind.” With that low, velvety tone of his—the same one I fell under the enchantment of earlier, while crumpled into a heap on the floor of the bookstore—he slowly strokes circles over the center of my palm with his thumb.
Christ on a bike.
“I’m not exactly…” I swallow. Do I tell him how pathetic my small, sad, lonely life is? Tipping my head back, I take a large sip of champagne, and that somewhat helps to inject me with a shot of false courage. Enough to thinkfuck itand just blurt it out. To admit the truth to this stranger with gentle honeyed eyes and the biggest hands I’ve ever seen in real life. “I’m not exactly used to being treated like this. All thefussing. All theattention.” I take another gulp of champagne, bubbles tickling the back of my nose. “You opened my car door earlier, and now you’re busy pulling out a chair for me. I know we agreed to play a game during the time I’m here, but I can’t help feeling like I’m being a massive imposition on your life.” That last part comes out as a whisper, while I take a quick peek around to check our surroundings are clear.
“You’re telling me that pathetic excuse for a man never did any of those things for you?” Reid’s voice remains low, steady,but there’s a hint of something in his tone. Like the shift in the wind as a storm brews on the horizon.
Another gulp of champagne goes down the hatch. Fuck, I’m talking before I know it.
“He would make excuses about being busy, being forgetful. That it wasn’t in his nature. His favorite reason was that he didn’t like to be affectionate… in public.” Oh god, I sound even weaker as I hear myself saying the words out loud. “I didn’t exactly have any outstanding examples of how to be treated, so I didn’t want to rock the boat. I’m the girl who’s easily overlooked, it’s just the way it’s always been.” The last of the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I lift my glass and drain the final drops.
“Mia…” His voice is soft-edged, and I can’t handle pity right now. Not from this man, who is so damn beautiful to behold.
“It’s fine.” I shake my head, unable to look him in the eye, afraid of what I’ll find there if I do. “I realize now, when I look back, it was stupid of me to listen to Dale’s bullshit. But at the time, it didn’t register. He always told me he was busy with work, so the only time we could see each other was late at night. Then he’d have to leave again, always early for work in the morning. You know how life just seems to roll from one day to another? Suddenly, I woke up and discovered I’d ended up allowing myself to become a doormat. I was such an idiot for believing him. It wasn’t until today… that moment I ran into the two of them and realized I had seen her before… I hate to admit it, but there must have been some overlap between us.”
Reid doesn’t let up on the way he continues to stroke my palm. It makes me want to curl against his chest and start damn well purring.
“Do I have your permission to go over there right now and break his jaw? I’d only need about three seconds. Possibly less.” He eventually speaks, this time through gritted teeth.
That makes me laugh, and I finally dare to connect with his gaze. “As much as I’d pay good money to see that, he’s the kind of bastard who would hit you with his car then sueyoufor denting his paintwork.” I nibble on my bottom lip.
“Do you think that fiancée of his with the prune face knows?”
An undignified snort escapes me. “About him and me? Definitely not.” Pausing for a second, I then follow that up with a long inhale through my nose and a slight shake of my head as I let that breath go. “They’re work colleagues. More fool me, huh? I remember her face. Photos posted on his social media while he was away… supposedly at events like conferences and golfing weekends. Or, at least, that’s where he said he was. Who knows the truth of it now that I know they’re together… and engaged.”
“Mia… I don’t want you to think badly of me. I promise, I’m not a violent person, but I really want to take my time while shattering every single one of his bones.”
The corners of my lips tip up. “Thank you. It’s kinda refreshing, feeling like I can laugh about it with someone.”
“You shouldn’t have to be putting up with any of this. You shouldn’t have been treated like that in the first place.” He scrubs a palm over his mouth. “I’ll be honest, there are a lot of places on this ranch I could take him to. Doubt I’d be able to make it look like an accident, though.”
More of those light bubbles of laughter rise up inside me. “A cowboy defending my honor for Christmas? Who would’ve thought you’d be offering your services as both fake boyfriend and hitman all in the same breath?”
Reid grins. “Pretty sure if I had five minutes alone with the guy I’d only see red.” There’s something hypnotic about this giant man being ready to get blood on his knuckles for me. Maybe I’m a little messed up for finding that hot, but that’s gonna be between me and my therapist in the new year.
“… Henri, on the other hand… he’s got far more experience with exercising controlled aggression,” Reid continues.
“Oh?” My brain is flooded with images of his tattoos and wickedly sharp cheekbones.
“From his rugby career. He used to play professionally.”
