Snowed In For Christmas: A Fun Feel-Good Holiday Romance Novel - Kimberly Krey Page 0,15

his throat and, at last, fixed his brown eyes right on her.

A splash of warmth hit her heart as it beat out of rhythm, as if trying to sync with his. She almost wished that it could. Perhaps the connection would give her glimpse at the inner workings of his mind. The mind of that strong, quiet, heroic type.

“The honest truth is,” he started, bending his leg to prop an arm on his knee, “I lost a bet. Doing a show like this reality bachelor whatever…I can’t imagine anything worse.”

What!

Ivy couldn’t tell which part of his confession shocked her more. His outright candor or the fact that this perfectly manly specimen did not want millions of women swooning over him for years to come. Sure, she’d sensed his aversion, but she’d assumed he’d prove her wrong.

He hadn’t; he’d proved her right instead. A rush of tingles skittered through her chest. She liked that he’d opened up to her. Liked that, in a sense, her instincts were correct.

“So if you don’t do the interview…” she said in a whisper.

“Then my sister will be furious. She’ll feel betrayed, I guess you could say. Also,” he added with a humorless laugh, “she says she won’t name her baby after me, though I doubt she’d go that far.”

Ivy felt her jaw drop a little. “She’s naming her baby after you?”

Easton nodded. “Yep. She’s thirty weeks along. Well, closer to thirty-one actually, which means that the baby is about as big as a pineapple right now.”

Holy Swoonersons! He just kept getting better. “Wow,” she said. “That’s incredible.”

“It was the size of a zucchini last week,” he said. “She fills me in on all the developments every time.”

Ivy considered that. “There are some pretty big zucchini out there. You should’ve seen some of the ones we grew in our garden. But I’m sure they mean the little grocery store sized ones,” she added.

“Let’s hope for her sake you’re right. She’s got another ten weeks to go.” Easton flashed her another grin.

Stop swooning, Ivy. She had to have a concussion, that was the only explanation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so…so much like a crushing schoolgirl.

But really, his nephew would be named after him? Ivy liked her brothers just fine. She loved them, in fact, but she couldn’t imagine naming a child after one in a million years.

“Huh,” she managed. But inwardly she was gathering a better picture of him. A strong, protective older brother. Filled with enough honor and goodness that his own sister wanted to name her child after him. The exact type of man she could actually lose her heart to, only to find that he’d never feel the same way.

A streak of sadness crept in as she realized how very true that was.

“I guess what I’m saying is,” Easton said softly, as if his mind had carried on the conversation. “I don’t really have much of a choice. I agreed to do the interview, and if the storm didn’t somehow make it impossible, like I hoped it might…” His face turned chagrined. “Then we may as well just do it.” He pinned those dark brown eyes on her. “So, where do you want me?”

Chapter 5

Easton shrugged into a fresh tee shirt, a gloomy sense of acceptance pushing its way through his body. After all that he’d been through, he still hadn’t earned his way out of the dreaded interview. Not even leaving all of her bags behind had prevented it.

A quick glance over his shoulder said that Ivy was propping her phone on a barstool against a stack of books. She had it aimed at the rocking chair he’d been seated at moments ago, only now it sat before the fire. It was twilight out, and the overhead light that once lit up the space had gone gray, leaving the flames to do the trick.

Ivy sat back onto the stool where she’d positioned it across from the rocking chair, then leaned forward to check the screen. “Okay,” she said, her voice much too chipper for the circumstance. “I’ve got fifty-five percent left on my battery. But nothing drains this phone faster than shooting video, so we’ll have to work quick.”

Easton nodded and made his way over to the rocking chair. Once his back was to it, he sank back and ran his gaze over the sight before him. He’d be danged if Ivy didn’t make those thermals look good. Too good. He’d helped a toddler-sized Chantelle bundle up on cold