Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“A date?” I echo, trying to keep my voice casual. “I thought your mission was to make me more festive, not corrupt you with my Grinch-like ways.”
Jack shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face. “Who says we can’t do both? We’ll eat Chinese food, watch true crime, and then follow it up with It’s a Wonderful Life. Best of both worlds.”
I laugh at the image. “That sounds . . . surprisingly appealing, actually.” I pretend to consider it for a moment, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose I could pencil you in. But fair warning: my commentary during true crime docs can get pretty dark.”
“Wanna know a secret? I happen to like dark,” he says, his eyes connecting with mine.
Jesus. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the sudden spark of electricity between us. “Dark, huh? Be careful what you wish for, Jack.”
He holds my gaze, his expression turning serious. “I’m not afraid of the dark. Or of you.”
My thoughts return to my video on Dark Secrets and how close I came to revealing my true self. The intensity of the moment catches me off guard. I look away, focusing on the snow-covered sidewalk. “Maybe you should be,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.
Jack’s hand tightens around mine, but he doesn’t say anything. We walk in silence for a few moments. I’m not sure why I said that, why I let that little hint of darkness slip out. Maybe it’s the magic of the night getting to me, making me feel more open than usual.
Jack clears his throat. “You know . . . I’m not all rescuing kittens from trees and running into burning buildings.”
I glance at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Oh? Secrets too?”
Jack’s expression is unreadable in the dim light. “More than I’d like to admit.”
We’ve stopped walking now as we reach my front porch, standing in a pool of light from the nearby Christmas colors on my hedge. Snowflakes dance around us, but I barely notice them. I’m captivated by this new, mysterious side of Jack.
I study Jack’s face, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. “Care to elaborate on that, Fireman Jack?
He steps closer, his eyes intense. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that side of me.”
My heart races at his proximity. “And here I thought you were a walking Hallmark movie,” I tease, but my voice comes out breathier than I intended.
Jack’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. Just like I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“Careful,” I warn, but I’m not sure if I’m talking to him or myself. “You might not like what you find out.”
“Try me,” he challenges, his voice low.
We stand there, the tension between us suffocating. I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to close the distance between us. Part of me wants to run, to retreat back into my safe, cynical world. But another part, a part that’s growing stronger by the second, wants to take the risk.
Kiss me, Jack.
Come on . . . do it.
Kiss me.
Nothing . . . damn it.
“Maybe . . .” I start, then pause, gathering my courage. “Maybe we could start with that date. Chinese food, true crime, and all the dark commentary you can handle.”
Jack’s face breaks into a genuine smile. “I’d like that. A lot.”
He leans in, and for a moment I think he’s going to finally kiss me. Instead, he brushes a snowflake from my cheek, his touch sending a jolt of heat straight to my pussy.
“Goodnight, Ms. Scrooge,” he murmurs. “Sweet dreams of sugarplums and serial killers.”
I laugh softly, trying to ignore the disappointment at the lack of a kiss. “Goodnight, Fireman Jack. Try not to save too many kittens before our date.”
As I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders dusted with snow, I try to suppress the little schoolgirl inside of me that wants to squeal. Jack is charming, handsome, and surprisingly intriguing. But I have dated enough vanilla men to know how this ends. And Jack may be sexy as fuck, but no way is he the type of man that would pull my hair, choke me out, and fuck me as I plead for mercy.
I unlock my front door, still feeling the ghost of Jack’s touch on my cheek. As I step inside, I’m hit with the silence of my empty house. The contrast between the magical night outside and the stark reality of my solitary life is jarring.
Shrugging off my coat, I head straight for the kitchen and pour myself a generous glass of wine. I need to clear my head, to shake off this ridiculous Hallmark movie feeling that’s threatening to overtake me.
I settle onto my couch, laptop open, ready to dive back into editing my latest video. But my mind keeps wandering back to Jack. His smile, his laugh, the way his hand felt in mine . . .