Not Your Average Vixen - Krista Sandor Page 0,78

You should try it for once,” she countered.

He scoffed. “It’s not who I am.”

“No kidding,” she huffed under her breath.

She had to remember that this was who he was to her—a grade A jerk intent on keeping the Abbotts a Dasher-free zone.

He ran his hands through his hair. “Listen, Bridget, I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

She glanced around the chapel. All the decorations and greenery were in place. Once the candles were lit, the sanctuary would glow, bathed in the warm light. There was really nothing left to do but clean up. She spied the broom in the corner and pointed to it.

“You can sweep up the loose pine needles.”

He frowned. “You want me to sweep?”

She stared up at the wooden beams. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never used a broom.”

A muscle ticked on his jaw. “I know how to use a broom,” he shot back, plucking the old thing from the corner.

She gave him a screw-you grin. “Congratulations, now get to work.”

No matter if they were in a hotel suite, kitchen, or chapel, this man brought out the fire in her—the vixen she never knew dwelled beneath the surface. Was that a good thing? Being a bitch was never a good thing, but with Soren, it worked. She glanced over to find him doing a damn good job sweeping up every loose pine needle.

Maybe he was good for something other than supplying her with multiple orgasms.

Ugh! Focus!

She pushed the idea out of her head and went to the bench to collect the items she’d brought to decorate when Soren’s voice cut through the swish of the broom.

“What were you and Lori talking about?”

She brushed a few bits of trimmed ribbon into her hand. “Just now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, not making eye contact.

She held up one of the photos. “Our parents’ wedding. This is where they got married.”

Soren propped the broom against the wall, then came to her side. “They look happy.”

“They were very much in love, like Lori and Tom,” she replied, getting in a little dig.

But his eyes revealed nothing.

“Lori didn’t have any big news?” he asked, expressionless.

What was he after?

“Soren, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Just great! They were back to Soren, the stone man.

“Is there something I should know?” she pressed.

Had Tom mentioned something?

That muscle on Soren’s cheek ticked again. “No.”

Tired of playing games, the vixen inside her took over.

“Is this how you act when you’re hungover? A cretin who grunts and responds with one word?” she questioned.

“I wish like hell this was just a bad hangover.” He looked around. “Are you done?”

Now, on top of being a Grinch of a curmudgeon, he was also an enigma!

“Yeah, let’s head down to the mountain house,” she replied, keeping him in her peripheral vision as she put on her coat, then collected the photographs.

He looked like the same man—a little rougher around the edges—but there was something different about him today.

He opened the door and held it for her as they crunched through the snow over to the waiting gondola. She entered the enclosed space and rubbed her hands together. Soren took no notice of her as he closed the door and hit the button to start the lift, and slowly, the gondola began its descent down the mountain.

She touched the glass. “It’s like being in a snow globe, isn’t it?” she offered, staring out at the flurry of white circling around them.

She’d extended the olive branch. Would he take it?

The answer: a colossal no.

Nothing. The man couldn’t even agree on something as trivial as snow acting like…snow.

She turned to him, ready to lay into him yet again for excessive bah humbug behavior when the gondola lurched, and she fell forward into his arms.

Suspended in time, they stared at each other.

“Dan said that the gondola’s been acting up,” he said, their noses touching as he held her in his firm grip.

“Oh,” she replied, capable of nothing else.

She stared into his eyes and again saw that flash of searing pain. And heaven help her, her heart literally ached, wanting to quell whatever storms raged inside him. Because no matter how hard he tried to put up an icy front, she knew firsthand that the man was capable of fiery passion and all-encompassing desire. But before she could say another word, he morphed back into aloof curmudgeon mode.

He set her back on her side of the gondola. “You need to stay over there to keep the weight even. Do you think you can do

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