the base of her throat.
She tried to hold back a whimper, tried not to think about ripping off his clothes right there. Anyone could walk in and he needed to get to the car for Sam.
But still she shifted, pressing her palms to the tabletop for support so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle of lust. And then—
“Tell me that’s not your idea of mood music.”
Carrie realized the sound of Judy Garland’s crooning about making the yuletide bright had gotten progressively louder until she could barely hear Dylan over the song.
Moving her hip, she realized she’d put her weight on her phone, inadvertently adjusting the volume to its highest setting. The Bluetooth speaker at the edge of the table practically vibrated with the chorus.
Stifling a laugh, she quickly turned down the sound. Silence filled the space, and heat colored her cheeks.
When she glanced up, Dylan was staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“Oops,” she whispered and they both gave in to the temptation to laugh.
“I hated holiday music before this moment,” he told her. “Now I’m worried that for the rest of my life the sound is going to turn me hot and bothered.”
Her grin widened. “You’re hot and bothered?”
“In all the best ways,” he confirmed, leaning in for another quick kiss.
That was both gratifying and dangerous, just like everything seemed to be with this man. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him to want her, but her own desire made her feel too exposed. After her dad died, Carrie promised herself she’d never let any man derail her life in favor of their own goals. She’d wasted too much time subjugating herself for her father and his needs and his art.
She wanted to believe she could be strong, but what would happen if she allowed herself to fall for Dylan again? What if he asked her to put aside her plans for the town in order to support his?
Would she be strong enough to say no if her heart told her to give in?
“You’re thinking too hard right now.” Dylan traced his finger along the worry line between her eyes.
“Why did you invite me to go to the beach with you?” she asked, pushing him away. She bent to pick up the discarded supplies that had fallen to the floor.
Dylan drew back his hand and shrugged. “I thought you’d have fun.”
“Dylan.”
“You’re good with Sam. It’s rough for him sometimes with just me. I’m not the best at making things fun. He relaxes around you.”
“He’d relax if you did,” she said quietly.
“Probably,” he agreed, surprising her.
This new Dylan was just full of surprises.
“I’m still not sorry I kissed you,” he said suddenly. “I don’t care if you consider me an enemy. I like kissing you, Carrie.”
She straightened, holding a wad of pencils in her fist in front of her body like a sword. “The kissing’s okay,” she muttered.
He threw back his head and laughed. “If I didn’t have to meet Sam, I’d take great pleasure in wiping that lie from your lips.”
“He’s going to beat you to the car if you don’t go now.”
“Then I’ll take a rain check.” He leaned in closer. “Keep that in mind, sweetheart.”
A quiver raced through Carrie as he turned and walked away. She would have liked to toss off some great comeback but wasn’t sure she had enough control of her mouth to even form words at that point.
Instead, she hit Play on her phone and continued to clean up the art room to the sounds of her favorite Christmas songs. The most wonderful time of the year indeed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“SHE’S GOING TO kick you out,” Dylan said as he pulled his Porsche into an angled parking space in front of Sunnyside Bakery Saturday morning. “The donuts at the gas station near the water tower aren’t horrible.”
“Are you nuts?” Sam smoothed a hand over his hair. “Those taste like a dog turd in comparison to Mrs. Winkler’s.”
Daisy perked up from the backseat at the word dog. Dylan couldn’t believe he’d allowed the shedding, drooling animal on his premium leather. Daisy lifted a paw and scratched it against the console, silently asking to be invited into one of their laps.
“You know I paid extra for the interior upgrade,” he told Sam.
“Daisy likes it,” the boy answered with a grin. “I’ll get you a biscuit, girl.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dylan called to the boy as he exited the car.
They were meeting Carrie at the beach, and Sam had insisted they stop by Sunnyside for pastries