Page 4 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

The broad shouldered man with a thick narrow waist is wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms that have always been a weakness of mine. His suit jacket is casually draped over my seat as he drinks some fancy looking drink.

“Hey, you wanna remove that?” I ask. “I was sitting there.”

He looks over his shoulder at me.

I see amber eyes and a wickedly handsome face. This is the face of a man who can get a woman at the crook of his finger. His hair is dark black and he has this arrogant rakish quality about him which makes me want to stare at him for a while. “I apologize.”

His accent is Irish, thick and melodic, and it wraps around me in that smooth deep voice, punching me straight in the gut. A lesser person than me would have drooled at this fine specimen of a man.

When I keep staring at him, he arches a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Do you plan to stare me into submission?”

This jolts me out of my hazy shock, and I blink. “Ah, sorry. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Of course, he isn’t, you idiot!

I take my seat, reaching out for my beer then nurse the cool bottle against my heated cheeks, and turn to look at him.

He’s smirking as he replies, “What gave it away?”

“Could be the accent,” I comment, recklessly, and then proceed to drain my bottle. “We don’t usually get a lot of Irish up here. Elliot, hit me up.”

Elliot gives me a disapproving look as he puts a bottle in front of me. “I’m not letting you crash on my couch again.”

I make a face at him. “That was one time, two years ago. Let it go.”

The man next to me gives me a quizzical look. “So, are you the town alcoholic?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’d watch that tone if I were you, pretty boy. I can drink you under the table any day.”

My companion gives me a slow smile that makes my heart flutter. “Darlin’, I’m Irish. You couldn’t drink me under the table even if you tried.”

My competitive streak fires up. “You’re on. Elliot, a round of shots for me and my friend here! What’s your name again?”

The man’s smile broadens and he almost looks charmed by my uncouth behavior. “Finn McCarthy at your service, pretty lady.” He even takes my hand and presses his lips to the back of it.

Who does that? Even as I think this, I have to wonder why that name sounds so familiar. The over the top gentlemanly behavior still makes me blush.

“And what would your name be?” he asks those amber eyes sparkling with amusement.

“C-Clara Winter.” I don’t know why I’m stuttering but the way his eyes are looking at me is making me quiver inside. It’s like I’m being watched by a docile beast, who’s just toying with me.

Just then, Elliot puts down the shots in front of us.

I shake off this weird attraction to this stranger and grin. “You ready?”

Finn’s lips curve.

It takes a whole of fifteen minutes for me to realize that I’m no match for this man. I’m well on my way to drunk while he’s not even tipsy. He’s giving me an amused look and I reach over and grab his jaw, scowling. “What’re you grinning about?”

He laughs, seeming to be delighted. “I think I’ve found somebody very interesting in this little town. You’re a strange little thing, aren’t you?”

I growl at him.

Suddenly, he puts a hand on my waist and drags me forward till our faces are mere inches apart.

I’m now standing between his legs, my chest pressed against his. His hand feels large on my waist, and wherever he’s touching me is burning. I’ve never felt such a desire to jump a man’s bones like I do right now.

My mouth is dry as his eyes trace my lips and then he looks up at me with wicked intent in those dastardly green eyes of his.

---