Page 48 of Hacking the Holidays
“Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself.
The table was empty.
And Rose was gone.
Just minutes ago, she had been right there—relaxed, laughing, our connection feeling real and electric. Now, an employee was getting the table ready for an older couple who were eagerly waiting nearby.
Had I scared Rose away with my talk about a date?
The thought hit me like a physical blow.
“Do you know if the woman who was sitting here left?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.
The employee glanced up from wiping down the table and nodded. “Yeah—just a couple of minutes ago. She was in a hurry, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks,” I said, then made my way to the sidewalk outside.
I scanned both directions on the street—toward Hotel Leavenworth, then the other way toward Front Street Park.
There were no signs of her.
Rose had vanished without even a goodbye. She’d waited until the exact moment I couldn’t see her leave, then disappeared completely.
I stood alone on the sidewalk, surrounded by Christmas lights and decorations that now felt harsh and mocking. Rose could be at the Bavarian Lodge right now, packing her bags, preparing to vanish from Leavenworth—and my life—as abruptly as she’d entered it. Or she could walk into the library tomorrow morning like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t just abandoned me without explanation.
Which version was real? The woman who’d relaxed beside me all evening, laughing until she snorted? Or the one who’d extracted herself the moment my back was turned?
I suspected I knew the answer.
Then I got another big surprise…
Rose emerged from the shadows near the Nutcracker Museum, walking toward me with purpose—not running, but moving with the deliberate intensity that made my heart rate spike. Her gaze was locked with mine as she got closer and closer and closer.
“Sorry—I shouldn’t have run out on you like that,” she said, stopping directly in front of me. “And I forgot to give you this …” Rose grabbed the front of my jacket with both hands and pulled me down to her.
The kiss hit me like a lightning strike.
Her mouth was warm and insistent against mine. One of her hands moved from my jacket to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair with enough pressure to make my scalp tingle. The other hand stayed anchored to my chest, keeping me exactly where she wanted me. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. No hesitation or polite testing of boundaries. Rose kissed me like she’d been thinking about it all evening and had finally given herself permission to stop thinking and just act upon that impulse.
My brain, usually so reliable at processing information and forming coherent thoughts, had completely flatlined. Every synapse was firing in directions that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the feeling of her pressed against me, the way her breath caught when I pulled her closer, the small sound she made when I deepened the kiss.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.
Rose pulled back, her hands releasing my jacket with the same deliberate control she’d used to grab it. She wasbreathing hard, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with something I couldn’t quite name.
Satisfaction? Victory? Regret?
She smoothed down the front of my jacket with both palms, like she was tidying up evidence of what had just happened.
“Okay then,” Rose said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Glad I could get that out of my system. Good night, Sam.”
Good night? Seriously?
She turned and walked toward the Bavarian Lodge, as if she hadn’t just completely dismantled every coherent thought in my head. Like she kissed people senseless on street corners as a hobby.
As she disappeared from my line of sight, I was still processing what had happened. Whatever Rose Thompson was hiding, whatever truth lay behind those beautiful eyes, her brilliant mind, and that devastating kiss, I was too mesmerized to walk away from it at this point. I wanted more, and I wanted it as soon as possible.
And that could be a big, big problem.
