Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,46

done anything more than even kiss, and the sex had been awkwardly clumsy. Since then, I’d hidden myself behind meaningless flirting and nothing more, not that I didn’t have a sex drive, hell, my online porn collection was extensive. It wasn’t that I didn’t have that push to get off, but with someone else it had to be right.

Special.

I’d only really known Brody for two days. Fuck’s sake. Then, of course, the spiraling became steeper, and by the time I was dressed for dinner, I’d talked myself into believing that the urge to take him back to my room was just because I needed him to buy into a relationship for my social media platforms.

And what kind of man does that make me?

Shallow. Pathetic. A waste of time.

And now dinner, which was an awkward mess of nothing at all that I wish I wasn’t sitting through, particularly as every time he moved, we knocked feet. Where was my natural enthusiasm, where was my focus? This show, forming connections with these people,

“What’s your steak like?” he asked me, and I glanced up at his open expression and then down to my steak. It was perfect actually, soft, locally sourced, the bite I’d taken had been perfect. But when I checked around me, everyone else had finished, and it was just me with my big ass untouched steak staring up at me.

“Good, but I think I’ll get some air.” I shoved away from the table so fast that the chair hit the wall behind me, and I could feel the heat in my face. Smile through it, make a joke. “Hashtag Broken Chair.” I added my patented smirk and then sauntered from the restaurant, trying not to show that each step was as if I was walking through molasses. I headed up to my room, grabbed my wet coat, then discarded it and instead layered up as many sweaters as I had and then a hooded fleece. On automatic pilot, I took a selfie, making sure the brand decal was in the shot plus the can of KlecksoCream in the background, and posted it to explain how I was bundled up for a walk to find Clare.

Yep, the joke was running well, my followers sharing photos of random stuff and using the tags I’d started. Some of them had tagged her in the post, so she would know it was happening now.

I hope it wasn’t offensive.

It’s not offensive if she’s a public figure, and you’ll get more likes by strategic placement.

I shook off Erin’s words and headed for the back door out of the hotel and to the patio area with the heat lamps and past that to the quiet snowy path beyond. There was actually a rope suggesting that no one went past it now, but something in me needed to check on Jeremy and see if he’d survived the most recent early evening snowfall. He was further down the path than I recalled and when I reached him he was in a sorry state of repair. Snow had collected in the tree above and fallen in one heap on our hero, and it took me a while to scoop away the main pile of snow. I used gloved hands, kicked some away, and when I was too cold, I pulled a branch and began to scoop.

Stupid ass life with stupid freaking attraction. I felt swallowed by everything as Jeremy was with the snow.

“Hey.”

I stopped digging and every muscle in my body suddenly relaxed. Brody had come to find me, or at least, he’d chosen to walk where he knew I would be. He was deliberately putting himself in my space and somehow that felt right.

“Hey back,” I murmured. “Get a stick, we’re digging.”

There was rustling behind me as Brody went hunting for a stick, and at the moment I unearthed the end of the scarf and began to tug, he was by my side.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Anywhere.”

Somehow we got Jeremy back to his former glory, and the only thing left was to reattach his twiggy arms and wrap the scarf. I took the twigs, and Brody took the scarf then we stood back and judged the snowman’s appearance. Brody was right next to me, and I swear, even through the thick coat, I could feel his warmth. What would it be like to reach out and put my arm around him? For him to snuggle into my side, tucked into my neck and hugging me back. I