The enemy who’d been about to give me the Heimlich the last time we’d stood this close. But that had been in my kitchen while I choked on my own spit, not in a snow-dusted forest with birds chirping overhead and afternoon sunbeams pressing past the clouds.
I justthoughtI felt the chemistry then.
His spicy aftershave and some kind of masculine deodorant filled my senses as my fingers dug into his flannel shirt, accessible through his unzipped jacket. I was literally clutching his chest, but at this point, he hadn’t made any move to release his grip on me either.
“Nice shot.” I risked a glance upward, trying to stay mad. This man had tricked me. Pretended to like me, pretended to want to be my date.
“I know.” A grin quirked his lips.
Oy. Smokey Bear always said only I could prevent forest fires, and if I didn’t get out of this man’s proximity, I was going to fail.
I quickly backed up and Nick’s hands slid off my waist. A fresh, depressing wave of cold washed over me. But only because it was freezing out. Only because my socks were wet and the back of my neck was soaked.
Right?
Nick reached out and brushed snow from my hair, still grinning. “How’d that get there?”
The only thing worse than having this level of attraction to my sworn enemy would be letting him know it. I squared my shoulders, steeling my spine and refusing to give him the satisfaction of shivering. “You’re just lucky I didn’t try out for softball in high school.”
“I think your high school is lucky you didn’t try out.” Laughter danced in his brown eyes.
I slapped my gloved hands together to rid them of lingering snow. “Touché.”
The sun inched out from behind a cloud, warming the back of my neck and turning Nick’s eyes from coffee to caramel. Around us, the snowball fight continued, punctuated by squeals from the kids and Chloe’s protests as she attempted to protect her hair.
Nick’s teasing smile remained unchanged as he brushed ice crystals off his jacket sleeve. “Maybe next time you won’t start something you can’t finish, Sinclair.”
Much too late for that.
“Maybe.” I held his gaze, my cheeks and chest flushing hot even as cold dripped down the back of my neck. “Though Mom always did say I learned the hard way.”
“That’s too bad. Not everything has to be difficult, you know.” His eyes softened. “Or…festive.”
Aha. Finally begging for mercy from Operation: Naughty List. It was about time. I lifted my chin, the taste of victory sweet. “It’s much better that way. Trust me.”
“Which way?” He tilted his head. “Difficult, or festive?”
“In this case, both.” I fluttered my lashes at him. “I heard we’re going to the mall later. Have you figured out what you’re going to ask Santa for?”
He blew out a short breath, his expression tightening even as his tone stayed light. “I have a few ideas.”
So he wasn’t fully cracking yet. Fine. I had plenty more ideas.It was only a matter of time until he caved. “If you get your list to me, I can print and laminate it for you, like mine. Pretty sure Santa prefers it that way.”
He nodded. “Thoughtful.”
“Oh, and don’t worry.” I flipped my gloved hand through the air. “I made an online order for those ugly sweater materials we need. I can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Did you get glitter?” He tried to hide it, but fear formed a tiny line between his brows.
“Don’t be silly.” I snorted. “Glitter doesn’t stick on fabric.”
His shoulders dropped to a normal place on his frame. “Shame.”
“So I got a lot of glitterglue.”
His shoulders hiked back up near his ears. “Oh, great.”
I hid my smile. “We should get started on them in the next day or so. Give the glue plenty of time to dry.”
