The Mechanic’s Secret Santa (Christmas in Alpine Valley #8)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

AARON

“I can’t believe you invited my mom,” Meg grumbles between clenched teeth as she ties her ice skates like she’s mad at them. Her gloveless fingers are already a light shade of pink.

“I thought you said she hates skating.”

“She does .”

I follow Meg’s gaze across the frozen pond where Kendra and Becky Sue sit on a bench near a heater, frosty mugs clenched in mitten-clad hands. “They’ve known each other a long time?” I guess, standing and offering my hands to her.

Meg stares at my open palms for several beats before deciding to place her icy fingers in them. “Becky Sue was my mom’s first and only employee when she opened the bakery almost twenty-two years ago.”

“But she knows about this?” I ask, referring to our fake arrangement.

“She won’t tell,” Meg says, sounding confident as she attempts to wriggle her chilly hands free.

“I’m not letting go until your fingers are back to a normal temperature.” I can’t help but smile at her scowl. Because beneath it, there’s a twinkle of something more. The chemistry between us has never been in question. It’s a shock that the bakery has never experienced a power surge from all the electricity surging between the two of us. But for whatever reason, Meg refuses to let her walls down around me.

“I’m not cold,” she insists.

“Just allergic to gloves that aren’t oven mitts?” I guess.

“Ha, ha.” With a playful eye roll, she pulls her hands free when we reach the ice and skates ahead. I’m not trying to look at her ass, but in those dark red holiday leggings, it’s hard not to notice how easily that perfectly plump ass seems to glide across this frozen pond.

She’s good.

Really good.

In minutes, I’m half a lap behind her.

Kendra’s look of concern isn’t the only thing that inspires me to pick up the pace. I didn’t agree to this fake relationship for the hell of it. I have a plan, and that plan includes convincing this elusive woman that there is nothing fake about what’s been going on between the two of us. Not now, and definitely not since I first stepped foot in her bakery almost four months ago.

When I catch up to Meg, I slip my hand into hers. She lets out a startled squeak.

“They’re watching,” I say, nodding to Kendra and Becky Sue and sending them a friendly wave.

“I have ten dozen snickerdoodle cookies I need to bake today,” Meg says without looking at me. I can’t quite tell if it’s exasperation or exhaustion in her voice. Maybe a little of both. “I can’t sneak back to the bakery if my mom is spying on our date.”

“No one else can bake them?”

“It’s a new recipe.” I get the sense that she’s withholding a couple of details, but with those damn walls up, I’ll never get the truth out of her.

I lean close and drop my lips near her ear. “More cocks?”

“Not everything I bake is dirty .” I’d bet the fresh red shine to her cheeks has very little to do with the cold. “But thank you for saving me back there.”

“Your mom wouldn’t approve of cock cookies?”

“Say that a little louder, would you?”

“What? Co?—”

Meg rocks forward on her skates before I can get the word out, twisting at the hips so she’s now facing me. Skating backward, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, she places a chilled hand over my mouth. “Shut up ,” she hisses but I swear it’s only one degree from a laugh.

I dart my tongue out and taste cinnamon. “Mmm.” Her eyes grow to twice their size and she whips her hand away.

I let my gaze glide up and down her body. “You know, it would help if you were a little bad at this.”

“Bad at what?”

“Ice skating.”

“Why should I be bad at ice skating?” she scoffs, turning so we’re skating the same direction again. She tries again to wriggle her hand free. But our fingers are interlaced, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting go anytime soon.

“Because we might be more convincing if you were clumsy.”

“I don’t see?—”

A small, almost undetectable maneuver on my part causes Meg to wobble on her feet. A few gasps from the crowd draw the attention I was hoping. It’s not only Kendra who’s watching, but half of Alpine Valley. “Aaron!”

I catch her easily enough in my arms, bringing us both to a stop in the middle of the pond.

“What the hell ?” she hisses.

“I was never going to let you fall, babe.” I comb a hand along her cheek, the graze of her soft skin against my rough palm causing an unexpected jolt of electricity to shoot up my arm and straight to my dick. “But this would be a really good time for a kiss.”

“What?” she whispers, her gaze instantly dropping to my mouth. Her irritated expression softens as her tongue wets her lips.

“Do you want to bake those cookies or not?” I hook a finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up. “One kiss might be enough to get your mom off your back. For today.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea?—”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of one little kiss?”

“I’m not afraid,” she balks, that fiery spirit I love so much igniting.

“Then prove it.” I lower my head slowly, bringing our mouths as close as I dare without our lips actually touching. “Plus, I want to see if your lips taste like cinnamon, too.”

“Damn you,” she grumbles, gripping the open flaps of my coat. Her emerald eyes darken a shade as our breaths mingle. A sweet sense of victory comes over me. Who knew that today would finally be the day I get to taste those pillowy lips?

“To be convincing, right?” she whispers.

I trace her jaw with the pad of my calloused thumb and she doesn’t flinch. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, babe.” I don’t give her the opportunity to scoff before I gently press my lips to hers. A soft buzz radiates from the connection. I could do the gentlemanly thing and pull back. But I’ll never see a checkered flag with Meg without taking a few risks to get there.

The second I deepen the kiss, she parts her lips willingly. Our tongues slide together in a slow yet hungry rhythm. Yep, cinnamon . A soft moan escapes her throat as she yanks harder on my coat, arching her body against mine. Despite the layers, I’m still a fucking man. I know the feel of tits pressed against me.

It’s the loud whistle from someone in the crowd that reminds us both that we’ve got an audience. Though that had been the point, now I wish I had this curvy beauty all to myself.

“That was Becky Sue.” At long last, Meg shares an unguarded smile with me. When our gaze locks again, it takes all the restraint I possess not to pull her lips back to mine. I knew kissing Meg would be fucking good. But I wasn’t prepared for my legs to be so damn shaky.

“Looks like they’re leaving,” I say, feeling a little smug.

“Really?”

“How’s that for convincing?” I tease.

Meg’s cheeks redden. “I think it’s safe to sneak back to the bakery,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

“Meg—”

“We have another date tomorrow, right?” She skates away before I can answer. Instead of chasing after her, I simply enjoy the view. One of these days, I’ll get my hands around those perfect cheeks. Preferably when I have my face squarely planted in that sweet cookie of hers.

“Just so you know,” Becky Sue says from the side of the skating rink, “I’ve always been Team Aaron.”

“Team Aaron?”

She holds up a mug in toast before disappearing into the crowd.

I don’t hide my shit-eating grin. If all goes according to plan this Christmas, I’ll get to eat Meg’s sweet cookies whenever I want, because she’ll be my wife.