Page 41 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Chapter Twenty

Olivia

T here was this moment, just between the two of us.

His face was so close to mine, and I knew we were thinking about the same thing.

The kiss. The one that sort of broke us before.

It wasn’t in some dramatic, door-slamming, never-speaking-again kind of way.

It was quieter than that, filled with awkward silences and weird eye contact.

It was a slow unraveling of everything that used to feel easy between us. I told myself it was a mistake, something we’d never talk about again. And we didn’t. But now, our fake dating has turned into something that feels way too real, and he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me again.

The terrifying part is that I want to let him.

The doubts creep in so fast. I can’t help but wonder if kissing Luke would feel like before?

What if it breaks whatever this is—this fragile, unspoken thing we’ve rebuilt?

I know, deep down, we’re not the same people we were back then. Maybe this time, it wouldn’t ruin us .

“Is everything okay?” Luke asks, his voice bringing me back to the present.

He hands me my cup of hot chocolate, and I give him a nod, not trusting my voice at the moment because, as I stare into those dark eyes of his, all I’m reminded of is that he admitted that he hasn’t been faking this entire time.

He hasn’t been faking.

His touches, his sweet words, the new expression he has whenever he looks at me…it’s all been real. And I’m not sure what to do with that. If I accept that Luke has romantic feelings for me, then I have to admit to myself that I’ve felt the same way about him.

What would that mean for us?

“Get out of that pretty head of yours and enjoy this night with me,” Luke says.

My gaze crawls up his arms, the slope of his shoulders, the strong line of his jaw. He catches me studying him and hums, the sound rich and low between us. “Try it,” he says, his eyes flickering to the festive paper cup in my hands, but it feels more like he’s prompting me to try something else.

I lift it to my lips, welcoming the scent of ginger, cinnamon, and chocolate, before taking a small sip. The liquid is still hot but not enough to burn me. As it flows down my throat, a smile tugs at my lips from the delicious flavor.

“It really does taste like a gingerbread cookie but somehow…different. It’s incredible.”

We start walking, waving goodbye to Emma and her family as they hop into a carriage together. While Luke is distracted, I take the opportunity to study him, at how the streetlights paint his face in the shadows of golds, silvers, greens, and reds.

All the beautiful pieces of him that I had convinced myself not to notice are on full display. Pieces of him that have always been there. Parts I refused to acknowledge because I knew if I did, I’d never be able to deny my feelings for him.

I need to get a grip on myself .

“Want to try mine?” He grins, already pushing his cup toward me.

“You should know the answer to that.”

We trade cups, and I savor the flavors of dark chocolate and cherry as they hit my taste buds. It’s delicious, inspiring an idea for a dessert I want to try to make when we get back home.

“Want to trade? This is amazing,” he suggests, taking another sip.

“I do, actually.”

His grin turns into a smirk as he says, “You just got a new idea for a dessert, didn’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No. I just know you.” The weight of his stare bolts down my spine.

“Yeah. I guess you do.” A swooping sensation builds in my stomach.

“What’s the idea?”

“Hmm?” I’m clearly distracted. Again.

“For the dessert?”

“Oh, um…” I pause, taking a moment to breathe. “Dark-chocolate-and-cherry macarons, a chocolate tart topped with cherries, a dark-chocolate-and-cherry sauce I can add to my croissants.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You got all those ideas from one sip of my drink?”

“Yup.” I shrug my shoulders, grunting when he grabs the drink from me and takes another gulp. He smacks his lips together, studying the flavors, and chuckles to himself.

“You’re amazing, Olivia Gray.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Luke Beckett.”

He’s staring at me so intently, like he’s attempting to memorize this moment, and I do the same because I want to cherish this moment too.

It’s an exhilarating feeling, to know that I’m not the only one wanting to collect these memories and pocket them, hoarding them like little treasures I want to revisit .

It hasn't been fake. Not for me, anyway.

My skin flushes hot at the memory of his words, warmth pools low in my belly, and that familiar buzz of anxiety fills my veins.

I part my lips to say something, but I’m cut off as he says, “Come on. Follow me.” Luke starts speed-walking, tugging me behind him, weaving us through the crowd until we’re in front of the ice-skating rink.

“When you're finished with your hot chocolate, I want to take you ice skating.”

“I can’t ice skate,” I admit, raising a brow.

“I can’t either.” He laughs, bringing his cup to his lips, and gulps the rest of his drink. “Let's try something new together.”

“Usually, trying something new means joining a pottery class together or going to a new restaurant. Not standing on top of ice with razor blades on our feet,” I say after finishing my drink and following him toward the rink.

Luke chuckles, opening the door for us. “It’ll be fun.”

“Move it, Grandma,” the eleven-year-old, who just ran into me, shouts from over his shoulder.

I fall, slamming into the freezing ice with a loud thud.

“Grandma? Are you kidding me?” I mutter, attempting to steady myself on these death skates, only to fall a second time, my arms and legs spread out as I’m spinning in circles, very much how Bambi looked when he was on ice.

“I’m on my way, Granny.” Luke makes his way over to me—ungracefully, might I add—and reaches out a hand to help me up. The smirk on his face quickly vanishes as he stumbles, falling on his face, and I would laugh if I didn’t notice the blood seeping from his nostrils when he looks up at me.

“Luke! Are you okay? You’re bleeding. ”

“I smashed my nose.” He winces, reaching over to touch his face and frowning at the redness on his fingers. “I’m starting to regret this decision.”

“You think?”

A sweet elderly couple stops in front of us. “Oh dear. Do you need some help?” the woman asks, reaching a hand out to Luke.

“Yes, please,” he grunts as he takes her hand and wobbles onto his feet.

The man does the same for me, and once we’re on our feet, he reaches into his pocket and hands Luke a tissue. “Thanks,” Luke says, gently patting his nose clean.

I start to slip, and the man wraps his arms around me to keep me from falling. “Looks like you found yourself the perfect boyfriend!” the eleven-year-old shouts as he makes another lap around us. I have had it with this kid.

“Thank you,” I say to the elderly couple, who give us a nod before skating off hand in hand like the cute little angels they are.

I clutch tightly onto Luke’s arm, refusing to let go, which is a poor choice on my behalf because as we start to skate again, he slips and falls, bringing me down with him.

I land on top of him, groaning as a sharp pain shoots up my leg, and that's when I feel the cold air seeping through my leggings. Oh no. This can’t be happening.

I lift my chest up so I can reach back, and sure enough, my leggings are ripped right down the middle.

Thank goodness I’m wearing a long skirt.

“Luke!” I whisper-yell.

He opens his eyes, grunting once he touches the back of his head.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

He grunts again, blinking his eyes a few times, as he softly says, “Is this heaven? It's so bright in here, and there’s this hot, red-headed angel on top of me.”

“You’re clearly fine,” I snap, which earns a chuckle out of him. “I ripped my leggings, and I’m pretty sure that teenage boy that passed by just saw my underwear!”

“Are they the ones with little candy canes on them?”

“How do you know— Shut up!” I exclaim, slapping Luke’s shoulder, who fakes a painful groan.

“That’s it. This was a terrible idea. How do we get out of this hell?” he mutters once we push ourselves to stand, and I make sure to cover my exposed backside with my skirt.

To our luck, two workers skate our way and help us off the rink.

I’m thankful for their guidance and the fact that they don’t laugh at us.

They look genuinely annoyed, and I can’t blame them.

I thank Jesus for the fact that we are in a town where no one knows who we are.

If this would’ve happened in Covewood, the whole thing would have been recorded multiple times and spread across the town within the hour.

“Are you all okay?” Luke’s cousin Dani rushes toward us. Behind her is Jerrica and Aunt Andy, who are both laughing hysterically, looking at Andy’s phone.

“Did you seriously record us?” I ask, tossing my skates to the ground and slipping my feet back into my boots. So much for thinking we could forget about this horrible nightmare.

“Not all of it. Just the last five minutes or so,” Aunt Andy says with a grin, her eyes still planted on the screen.

“Why would you all attempt ice skating if neither of you could skate?” Dani asks, helping me to stand up.

“Ask Luke. It was his bright idea.”

Luke shrugs his shoulders. “Come on, Cupcake. Let's get away from my judgy family and go find some mistletoe.”

All three of them wiggle their eyes at us as Luke grabs my hand and leads us through the crowd, away from them.

We walk around the cul-de-sac, saying hi to Santa and his elves, pet some real reindeer, and snap a few photos with the Grinch.

As we grab a bowl of chili, we eat and walk around, admiring the light displays on the houses around us.