She bites her lip, looking guilty again. “Yeah, me, too.”
“It’s okay to have a good time with your fake fiancé. And it’s okay to enjoy how happy you’ve made your gram. That was the whole point, right? Now, she can rest easy knowing you have a partner who’s crazy about you. And we won’t say a word about ending the engagement until she’s out of the woods health-wise and strong enough to handle it.” Her lips part on a protest, but I cut her off. “And if I need to go to the Fourth of July party next year with you or come hang out on Christmas Eve, I’ll do it.”
Her eyes widen. “Really? You’d do that?”
“Of course. It would be fun. You know Evie and I don’t have much family or any fun traditions like that. I’d like to see how the familied half lives.”
“Well, it can be a blast,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. “Or you can end up with a terrible haircut courtesy of a six-year-old and losing a finger when Uncle Frank sets off fireworks too close to the beach blanket. So, you’d basically be taking your life in your hands.”
“Sounds exciting.” I take her hand and nod toward the sleighs. “We should load up. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Yeah, we should.” But she doesn’t move for a beat, just squeezes my hand tighter. “Thank you. Seriously. You’ve been so great. And I really appreciate it.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I bend and steal another kiss, whispering against her lips, “Any time, Hepburn. Now let’s go dashing through the snow.”
And we do.
And it’s so much fun I almost forget that it’s all fake.
Harlow’s head on my shoulder as the jingle-belled horses race across the top of the high ridge, treating us to a killer view of the snowy mountains stretching away in the distance, feels so good, so right, that I decide it’s okay to get lost in the pretend.
Even if it is only for a little while…
Chapter Fifteen
Harlow
The rest of the day passes in a flurry of activity.
There’s a hot chocolate and s’mores buffet at the end of the sleigh ride. The adults gather around the fire pits to stay warm, while the kids feed our hardworking horses carrots and apple slices.
Then Mom surprises me with the news that she’s found a top-rated salon in a village an hour away and she’s taking me to get my hair fixed. Her treat.
I’m nervous—especially when I see the cutesy gingerbread house where “I’ll Cut You Good” is located, and the hundreds of cross-stitched pillows decorating the sitting room. This place is way more country than any salon I’ve stepped foot in since I was a kid, but the owner is a sassy older woman who immediately puts me at ease by suggesting the angled bob cut I already had in mind.
By the time the sun sets, I’ve been cut, dried, and styled and am feeling much better about the morning hair massacre. I wouldn’t have chosen to cut my hair, but I can’t deny the choppy bob is edgy, stylish, and professional looking.
And I don’t look nearly as masculine as I’d feared.
Mom and I hurry into the lodge to join the end of the dinner-already-in-progress, where I’m not all that surprised to find that Derrick has already ordered me food to go, just in case I didn’t get back in time.
He’s shockingly thoughtful. And knows me better than I ever suspected.
I creak open the paper carton to reveal the butternut squash ravioli I would have chosen for myself and grilled broccolini, my favorite. “Wow,” I say, my brows lifting.
“The selections are to your liking?” he asks over the rim of his wineglass.
“The selections are perfect.”
“Much like me,” he says with a smug grin. “How did you get so lucky?”
I laugh and elbow his ribs. “I don’t know. But you’d better have ordered some wine to go, too.”
He reaches down and lifts a bottle with a paper bag wrapped around it from the floor beside his chair. “Done. But they had to wrap it up before we could take it from the dining hall. Something about local liquor laws.”
I hum in appreciation. “Wow. You’re batting a thousand today.”
“Does that mean you’re in the mood to do me a solid?”
I nod. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Our trivia night got me thinking…I should probably bone up on the Hissing Muskrats’ franchise history and recent trades before the interview on Thursday. Want to help me make some flash cards back at the room?”
“Absolutely,” I say, both relieved and disappointed by the purely friendly request. Just this morning, I was so freaked out by Derrick’s insinuation he’d like to date me that I was considering moving to Lauren’s room.
But that’s no longer on the table, and not just because Lauren and I are still in the “uneasy truce” stage of our post-fight journey.