Page 2

Chapter Two

C ole

The clang of tools hitting the floor echoes in the garage, snapping my focus from under the hood of Ivy’s car. I mutter a curse under my breath, lifting my head to see her standing by my ancient radio, one hand on the dial, the other over her mouth in feigned innocence.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to touch a mechanic’s stuff, especially when he’s working on your car?” I ask, wiping my hands on a rag, trying to keep my tone steady even as my patience wears thin.

She grins, all bright-eyed and unapologetic. “I just wanted to see if this old thing worked. It looks like it’s been here since the Stone Age.”

“Yeah, well, it does,” I say, crossing my arms. “Or it did. Now I’m not so sure.”

She laughs, a light, unbothered sound that fills the room like a bell. I hate that the sound goes straight to my cock. “Well, Cole, maybe a little Christmas music wouldn’t hurt. You look like you could use some holiday cheer.”

“Last thing I need is jingle bells in my ear while I’m trying to work.” I lean back under the hood, hoping she takes the hint, but she’s still hovering, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Suit yourself, Mr. Grinch.” Her voice is practically dripping with amusement.

I don’t dignify that with an answer, focusing on reconnecting a loose wire in her engine, when suddenly the radio crackles to life, blasting a high-pitched rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” My hands jerk in surprise, sending a wrench tumbling to the floor. I hear her stifling a giggle behind me, and when I turn, she’s covering her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with mischief.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit sorry.

I pick up the wrench, shaking my head, trying not to notice the way her cheeks have a bit of a holiday flush to them, like she just stepped out of some Christmas card. Damn she’s sweet. I imagine she’s got a boyfriend back in town, some loser that probably takes her on fancy dates and says sweet things to her. I know I’m not the kind of guy for her, she’s full of sugar and spice and I’m the opposite of everything nice. “Car should be good to go. And if you don’t quit messing with things, you’ll be on my Naughty List.”

She laughs, the sound bright and reckless. “Funny you say that, because you’re already on mine. Even before my car decided to give up on life.”

I cock an eyebrow, leaning against the car, crossing my arms. “Oh, am I?”

“Yup,” she says, popping the “p” as she steps closer. “You’re the only person in town who doesn’t seem to get in the spirit–Copper Mountain’s real life Grinch. So, I took it upon myself to add a little Christmas cheer in here.”

I glance over her shoulder, noticing a few garlands and sparkly ornaments dangling from my tool rack, even a tiny stocking hanging from the handle of my toolbox. She’s decorated my garage. My damn garage. I run a hand over my jaw, torn between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually went and decorated my garage?” I shake my head, unable to hide the smile that threatens to break free. “You’re something else, Ivy.”

She shrugs, adjusting a little red Santa hat perched on her head. “I couldn’t help it. It just seemed like you needed it. And look how festive it looks now! All thanks to me.”

I shake my head, caught between irritation and something I can’t quite name. “You think you can just waltz in here and sprinkle some Christmas glitter on everything, and suddenly I’m supposed to be full of holiday cheer?”

“Hey, I’m only doing my civic duty,” she says with a smirk. “Bringing a little joy to the people of Copper Mountain.”

“You think you’re bringing joy?” I step closer, tilting my head down to meet her gaze. “Or maybe you’re just a little too full of yourself.”

Her cheeks redden, but she holds her ground, matching my intensity. “Maybe. But at least I’m not a complete Scrooge about it.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before I close the distance between us, gripping her by the waist and pulling her to me. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she tilts her chin up, daring me with that sparkle still in her eyes.

“You know, you talk an awful lot for someone who’s trespassing in my space,” I murmur, my voice low as I lean closer.

“Maybe you need someone who talks a lot.” Her voice is a soft challenge, her gaze locked on mine. “Might balance out all that brooding.”

I can feel her warmth, her energy crackling between us, and suddenly, I’m done with the banter. I lower my mouth to hers, claiming her lips in a kiss that’s meant to shut her up, to steal that breath she keeps throwing my way. She gasps against my mouth, and I take full advantage, deepening the kiss, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against me.

She tastes like peppermint and sweetness, and I’m lost in it, in her. Her fingers clutch at the front of my shirt, holding on as if she’s as caught off guard by this as I am. But neither of us pulls back. I feel her melt into me, her resolve faltering as my lips move against hers, teasing, coaxing. Her hands slide up to my shoulders, fingers tangling in my hair, and a soft moan escapes her throat, a sound that shoots straight through me.

When I finally pull back, she’s staring up at me, her chest heaving, eyes wide and dazed. “I... that was... wow.”

I let out a low chuckle, watching her try to find her footing. “Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting that.”

She swallows, shaking her head. “Best kiss of my life, and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Well, Mrs. Claus,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I thought you’d be prepared for anything.”

She blinks up at me, still breathless, and I realize I’m not quite ready to let her go. My hand lingers on her cheek, and she leans into it for just a moment before pulling away, her cheeks flushed.

“I, uh... should probably get going,” she says, her voice a bit unsteady. “Can’t have the kids thinking Mrs. Claus got herself in trouble up on Copper Mountain.”

I smirk, stepping back, letting her regain her composure. “Guess I’ll see you around then. Naughty List and all.”

She bites her lip, and I catch the flicker of hesitation, the tiniest hint that maybe, just maybe, she’s reconsidering. But then she gives a quick nod and turns, practically tripping over her own feet in her hurry to get to the door.

I watch her go, the image of her in that Santa hat burned into my mind, and I know for damn sure this isn’t the last I’ll be seeing of Ivy.