Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I’d gotten mine, and he’d fucked right off without letting me reciprocate. Even if this thing between us had only been physical—and god knew I’d hoped for more than that—he should have at least let me even the score.
Instead, Maddox had texted before dawn to say most of town was still digging out, the roads weren’t safe for anyone who didn’t have a 4x4, and that I should stay put. He’d also helpfully included the details of where and when he’d be filming my fourth date.
What he didn’t include was a single word about the night before… or an apology for his abrupt departure.
It was as if the whole thing had never happened.
I tried to keep myself as busy as I could, despite being snowed in. I checked the stats on the video I’d posted of my tree-trimming “date” last night and found I was winning my bet with Maddox—the comments section was littered with sweating emojis and endless variations of “With a man that hot, honey, who needs to know how to build a fire?”—but the victory felt hollow. I couldn’t imagine collecting on it, after everything.
Thankfully, the woods behind the cabin were perfect for shooting clips with my thoughts on Legacy, the holidays, Nordique’s signature style, and anything else I could think of to riff on.
I kept my thoughts on flip-flopping lumberjacks to myself.
But after exhausting myself editing and scheduling posts all evening, I finally revisited the whiskey bottle from the night before and eventually fell into a fitful sleep that left me even more hungover for my date the next day.
At least this time, I could say I’d been good and drunk first.
The Legacy Christmas Market sprawled across the town square like something from a storybook—wooden artisan stalls draped with evergreen garlands, twinkling lights strung overhead in a canopy of stars, and the scent of cinnamon, pine, and roasted chestnuts perfuming the crisp evening air. Fresh snow from the storm blanketed the ground, crunching beneath boots and reflecting the rainbow of colored lights.
It was impossibly picturesque. Exactly the kind of aesthetic I’d fly across the country to capture. But I wasn’t seeing any of it through my camera lens.
I was too busy watching Maddox pretend I didn’t exist.
“So date number four is with Jamie Berg,” he said, adjusting his camera settings while carefully avoiding eye contact. “He runs a coffee shop just up the street. Very photogenic, great smile. Locals love him.”
“Sounds perfect,” I replied, matching his professional tone even as my stomach knotted. “Where’s he meeting us?”
“By Juni Dovetail’s ornament stall in about twenty minutes. I figured we should get some establishing shots of the market first.”
The awkwardness between us was as thick as the snow drifts on the side of the highway, and it was really pissing me off.
Maddox Sullivan was the king of acting like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t had his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, my cock in his mouth. Like he hadn’t shredded my composure, shattered me with pleasure, and then immediately rebuilt the walls between us, brick by goddamn brick.
I’d known he’d second-guess everything, but I hadn’t expected him to ice me out completely.
And I hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.
“You realize this is stupid, right?” I finally said, unable to maintain the charade. “We can’t just pretend—”
“We have a job to do,” Maddox cut me off, his voice tight. “Let’s be professional and do it.”
“Professional. Right.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “Is that what you call what happened the other night? Professional?”
His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble I now knew felt deliciously rough against my skin. “That was a mistake,” he said quietly. “The storm, the whiskey… it shouldn’t have happened.”
The words stung more than the frigid air.
“Funny,” I said, struggling to keep my voice light. “You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake when you had my cock in your mouth.”
His eyes flashed dangerously. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed, glancing around at the oblivious marketgoers.
“Or what?” I challenged, stepping closer. “Afraid the town gossips will know you actually have feelings under that grumpy flannel exterior? That you’re a flesh-and-blood man who—”
“I have a sister to look after. A business to run. A life here that will continue long after you’ve moved on to your next luxury sponsorship.” His voice was low, almost desperate. “This isn’t a game for me.”
The raw honesty in his words doused my anger like cold water. He wasn’t being cruel. He was afraid.
“Who said anything about a game?” I asked, softer now.
Before he could answer, a voice called out from behind us.
“Maddox! Adrian! There you are!”
We turned to see Maya hurrying toward us, cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. She was bundled in a red coat and matching hat, looking like a walking Christmas card.