Page 49 of Hacking the Holidays
The kind that starts with “I should be careful” and ends with wondering how someone you’ve known for less than a week can already feel like the missing piece you didn’t know you were looking for.
Chapter Twelve
ZARA
I just committed the most reckless act of my entire career, but instead of being terrified, I felt exhilarated. My lips still tingled. My heart was still racing. I’d never felt more alive in my life.
What was wrong with me?
The door to our room at the Bavarian Lodge clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath.
Chloe was sprawled on her bed, watching a crime procedural on the hotel TV. She looked up when I entered, her expression shifting from relaxed to alert in the space of a heartbeat.
“Uh-oh …” She hit mute on the remote, then sat up. “What happened?”
I continued to stand there with my back against the door, trying to figure out how to explain something I didn’t understand myself.
Chloe studied me more carefully, her trained eye picking up details I probably didn’t even realize I was broadcasting.
“Wait—did you punch Sam in the hootie hoo again?” she asked.
I covered my face with both hands and shook my head.
“Much worse,” I said through my fingers.
“What could be worse than that?”
I dropped my hands and met her eyes. “I kissed him.”
“You—” Chloe’s mouth fell open, then she practically catapulted off the bed. “You kissed the target?”
“I don’t know what came over me!” I said, moving away from the door, peeling off my jacket, and then hanging it in the closet. “It was like I was possessed. We were having an amazing time after you left, but then I panicked and snuck out of the restaurant while he was in the bathroom because I felt guilty about leading him on. I was on my way back here, actually. But then I felt guilty for walking out on him, since he had been nothing but kind, so I returned to München Haus and?—”
“You kissed him,” Chloe finished, her voice caught somewhere between horror and fascination.
“Yes. Right on the street. And on thelips.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. It’s true.”
“This is?—”
“Barmy? Demented??” I looked her in the eye and added, “Doolally?”
Chloe stood up, clearly trying to process this information. “Okay, let’s think about this logically, and figure outwhat your best options are at this point.” She pondered it for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got nothing.”
“It’s not just because of the guilt, though I felt terrible about the beer I spilled on him and then the accidental smack to his you-know-what,” I said. “But then he told me he was attracted to me.”
“What?!” Chloe said.
“I know, I know,” I said. “Sam is the king of mixed signals. He treats personal space like it’s radioactive, then turns around and makes me feel all fluttery with a single glance. He lives and breathes databases, codes, and spreadsheets, but somehow is unexpectedly thoughtful, compassionate, and simply adorable. What was I supposed to do with that?”
“Kiss him, obviously.” A slow smile spread across her face. “There’s nothing sexier than a man who can express himself clearly and knows exactly what he wants.”
“This is a disaster.”
“Maybe not …” She sat back down on the bed, looking far too entertained by this situation. “I mean, yes, operationally it’s complicated. But?—”
