Snowed In For Christmas: A Fun Feel-Good Holiday Romance Novel - Kimberly Krey Page 0,25

into place and came to a stand, hope sprouting in her chest as she realized what he was saying. “You’ll let me come then?”

He gulped. “I’d probably be faster without you,” he said more to himself.

“Thanks a lot.”

“You know what I mean,” he said with a shrug. “Get yourself a cinnamon roll and I’ll take a look outside. Who knows, maybe we’ll be able to check the forecast and see if there’s been any change. If it clears up, and if the airport is opening flights again, maybe we can get you home in time for your party after all.”

Ivy forced herself to nod. “That would be awesome.” But inwardly, she’d grown attached to the idea of spending another day with Easton. There was chemistry between them, she was sure of it. And another day spent together, heck, that might be all they needed to discover there really was something there.

No, Ivy. You don’t want to get hurt again. One look at the mass of physical perfection by the fireplace said it all. Easton could have any woman he wanted, but he’d chosen to be alone. The thought gave her pause; he’d said that last night, hadn’t he? That he didn’t believe in love. How sad.

She searched through her memories some more. She’d been pretty affected by the moonshine peaches, Ivy remembered that much. Oh, and he’d fed her a peach and licked his thumb after catching a drop of juice from her lip. She’d wanted him to kiss her and… A dose of embarrassed heat pooled into her face. Had she said it aloud? That she wanted to kiss him?

“You going to eat?” Easton asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Yes.” Ivy stretched and yawned, hoping to appear natural as her mind scoured the events she could recall. At last, she came up empty. Whether she’d voiced that desire or not, there was nothing she could do now to change it.

Best to simply leave it in the past and focus on today. It would also be best, she realized as Easton cracked open the door to survey the storm, if she was somehow able to catch a flight out before the day was through. She could get the interview to Marsha, have the evening—or at least Christmas Day—with her family, and leave thoughts of Easton Sparks behind her.

A wry chuckle threatened to sneak up her throat at the thought alone. Who was she kidding? Once Marsha got her hands on that interview—as imperfect as Ivy had once thought that it was—she’d want Easton on the show all the more. He’d be the Darcy of the bunch. The handsome brooder with a difficult past.

Jealousy twisted in the center of her gut. The five bachelorettes would be all over him. The vegan would probably be eating bacon off his fork by the time the show was through.

Who cared? He didn’t belong to her, and if he had it his way, he wouldn’t belong to anyone. Let the brave bachelorettes lose their hearts to him one by one. Ivy would remain nicely within her no-dating boundaries, safe from the wrath.

Ivy waited for that conviction to lend the calming effect it usually did. Waited while sitting at the table and biting into the cinnamon roll he’d set out for her. Yet, even as she ate, finishing the entire roll in just a few bites, the calm never came. This time, all she could feel was the heavy lack of hope.

Ivy hurried through the open door as the storm nearly pushed her through the entrance. A slate of snow cased her at either side, making her all the more anxious to step into the warmth.

Easton hurried in behind her and shoved the door closed with his elbow. He jiggled the handle next, then secured the lock and turned to look at her. “There,” he said. “If you do that, it won’t slam back open and smack you upside the head.”

“Good to know,” she said. “Speaking of which, I wonder how my head’s doing?”

Easton reached over and tugged the wool hat—something he’d leant her—right off her head.

Ivy’s hand shot to her static-ridden hair. “Hey…”

He grinned. “This is a good look for you.” But then he shifted his gaze to her bandage and gently traced along the sides. “I’ll take a look at it once we’re dried off. For now, let’s get out of these snow shoes.”

Ivy hobbled over to the bench. She’d gotten the hang of walking over the snow with the shoes, but moving about the