Page 13 of The Holiday Exchange

“It’s really nice.” He gives his husband a meaningful glance, and it’s so intimate, I have to look away. I rub at the stitch of longing in my chest. Not for Mark, but for what Mark has.

“Are you from around here?” Dawson asks Michael, tightening his hold on my waist. If it were anyone else, I’d say it was a possessive move, but more likely he’s simply nervous.

“No, but not too far away—over in Harbor Springs.”

“Nice,” I reply, and after another uncomfortable beat, I say, “Well, got customers to help. I hope you find a good tree.”

“Thanks, see you around.” Mark looks relieved. “Probably at the tree lighting.”

“Yeah, probably.” Suppose it’s best we got this over with now so that maybe it won’t be so awkward in town at any of the pre-holiday festivities.

Dawson’s arm remains around me even after they’ve walked away.

“It’s okay, they can’t see us anymore.”

“Oh, sorry.” Dawson releases his hold and steps back, his cheeks pink.

I nudge his shoulder. “Good acting, though.”

“Eh, it wasn’t too grueling,” he teases.

My eyes spring to his, and he holds my gaze for entirely too long. My stomach feels funny, and I wonder if it’s because I liked being someone’s boyfriend for those five whole minutes. Probably has nothing to do with Dawson’s arm feeling so good around me, so natural.

Dawson glances over his shoulder. “How did it feel, seeing your ex?”

I blow out a breath. “Not sure. I thought it would be a bigger deal.”

He nods. “We build it up in our heads.”

“Speaking from experience?” I ask, suddenly very curious about his love life.

“Everyone has a first.” He smiles sadly. “Some people just aren’t a match, and that’s okay. We’ve all kissed our share of frogs.”

“Too many in my case,” I admit, and Dawson rolls his eyes.

He scoops up some snow and flings it at me. “Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Now you’re asking for it.” When I respond in kind, he dodges my makeshift snowball.

“Still want that snowmobile ride?”

“Absolutely.”

I nod. “Let’s go after dinner.”

6

DAWSON

I can’t stop thinkingabout Briar’s expression when we were talking to Mark and Michael. Is he still in love with his ex? He said he wasn’t, but maybe it’s something he didn’t want to admit or didn’t realize himself. Or hell, maybe he’s just wishing I were Nathan.

I’ve been trying to ignore that thought all afternoon while working at the farm. It was fun being out there, seeing Briar interact with people he’s known most of his life, and though it makes me an asshole, I like pretending to be his boyfriend. I like the scent of sandalwood and vanilla on his skin, the warmth that radiates from his body, and the way sometimes it felt like he was leaning against me. Like maybe he forgot this isn’t real.

Which is an absolutely ridiculous thing to think, and I really need to curb this crush I have on him.

His mom made a roast, potatoes, and carrots for dinner. We sat around the table, eating together, in this way that doesn’t feel real to me. It never feels this intimate with my family. The vibe isn’t the same. I want it to be, though, want to find a way for us to be closer, and maybe I need to take a step to make that happen.

“It’s pretty dark out,” Briar tells me after the two of us finish washing dishes. His mom had argued with us about doing them, but we insisted since she cooked. “We might want to wait until tomorrow to go snowmobiling.”