Page 17 of SnowBound

He appeared to think for a moment before he said, “My turn.”

“O-okay.” I was glad the conversation had drifted away from me.

“One. I’ve been in love once. Two. I’m an awesome cook. Three. I hate watermelon. Four. This night is more interesting than I anticipated.”

I felt my face warming up at his last statement and the way he watched me when he spoke it.

His eyes locked on mine, and a flock of butterflies filled my stomach. For a long beat, I forgot what we were doing.

“So, what is it?” Andy asked.

“What?”

He frowned. “Huh, my lie?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I think it’s… Well, I’m not sure someone could really dislike watermelon, but why would you have picked it up otherwise…?” I paused, thinking it through. “You look like the kind of guy who can fall in love. So, now I’m confused.”

He studied my face but said nothing for the longest minute of my life. “What makes you say Ilook like the kind of guy who can fall in love?”

I shrugged. “My gut.”

“Well, even though I had a girlfriend in the past, I’m not sure I was in love. Like the head-over-heels feeling people describe. This is my lie.”

“Interesting.” I moved back to my feet. “See, we don’t feel like complete strangers anymore. Let’s keep playing.” I wheeled him forward but halted mere feet away. “You really hate watermelon?”

“Yep. With a capital H. It’s gross. Even flavored watermelon stuff tastes awful.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that passed my lips. “Andy, you’ll forever be the guy who thinks watermelon is gross to me.”

“Well, you’ll forever be the airport café girl.”

We exchanged a smile.

“Since you’ve been playing nice enough so far and haven’t thrown a tantrum, you’ve earned yourself a treat.”

“A kiss?” he asked, his face unreadable when his eyes searched mine and stayed there.

I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know mine must have turned bright pink. My cheeks warmed up when he arched one brow. Liquid heat pooled in my belly. Why did he have to look so hot when he said it? My jaw slackened at the mischievous curl forming on his lips, but I regained my composure before I did something I wasn’t ready for and rummaged through the bag I’d placed on his lap.

“No, silly. Whiskey. You want some?”

Andy’s hand skimmed mine as I presented him with the bottle. Shivers lined my spine, and my heart flipped in my chest. I was feeling things. Things I had no reason to feel.

“Yes, please.” His husky voice caused my insides to melt. Every cell in my body pulsed with need. He took a hefty swig and passed the bottle to me.

I brought the booze to my mouth, needing the fake sense of courage it would provide.

The liquid burned the lining of my throat as it went down, and I cringed. And coughed. Then blinked away the tears filling my eyes.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied, fighting a shiver and using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “Not used to drinking booze straight from the bottle.”

He burst out into a fit of laughter. “Ah, so you’re a virgin.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I. AM. NOT.”

His snicker wrapped around me in tight ribbons. “Thanks for the info, but I didn’t mean it that way. I meant a virgin to whiskey, a virgin to reckless actions and wild nights.”