I snort out a laugh. “Cause he’s eighty-six, Penn.”
“Right, okay, will Dylan be at the meeting?”
“Yup.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s something steely behind it—like he’s gearing up for a faceoff. “Then I’m definitely going to be there.” There’s a sharpness in his tone that tells me this isn’t just about volunteer work. Not anymore. While he might not have stepped in back when Dylan publicly humiliated me at the Christmas lighting ceremony, it looks like he’s finally ready to take a stand.
And this time, he’s standing beside me.
I find that oddly endearing.
“Just no hitting,” I reinforce.
“Right. Will his fiancée be there, too?” Penn asks, and I swear I can hear the distaste already curling in his voice.
“Oh, Peppermint Barbie goes wherever he goes,” I reply sweetly. No, I’m not going to admit I’ve checked her socials a time or two or a thousand. I don’t do it because I want to know what Dylan is up to. As an influencer, she’s quite charming and good at what she does.
Penn throws his head back and laughs—a real, full-bodied laugh that echoes off the walls as he repeats, “Peppermint Barbie.” His laugh bubbles up in my chest and pulls a smile from me before I can stop it. Okay… maybe this fake relationship thing is going to be more fun than I thought. Dangerous for my sanity, maybe. But fun.
“Sloane’s her real name.”
“Of course, it is,” he responds.
“Her handle is @dreamgirl.”
He scoffs. “Probably a nightmare.”
I grin at him. “Transferred animosity, I like it.”
He gives me a playful wink that sends shivers down my spine. “I am always going to side with the girl who let me in her bed.”
“Maybe I can talk her into playing Mrs. Claus. That’d be great for her socials. Unless you actually do play Santa, and then I won’t have to be near Dylan.”
“Nope, sorry. Not a gig I want.”
A little surprised by that—not that I ever thought Dylan would give it up—because it would be really good for his image, I pull the hot tub cover closed with a satisfying thud, then cross to the window. I tug back the striped peppermint curtains and blink in surprise.
“It’s snowing.” Tiny flakes drift lazily past the glass, soft and sparkly, like powdered sugar falling from the sky. I hug myself, warmed by the sight, and maybe a little by the company.
Behind me, the bed creaks. I glance over my shoulder. Barefoot, half-naked, and all six-foot-something of sinful temptation, pads across the room and comes to a stop directly behind me. The heat coming off his body blankets me. Then he leans over me, just enough that I feel the warmth of his breath at the shell of my ear.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, his voice so low and velvety I nearly melt. “Maybe we can go skiing later.” He moves back, leaving cold where there was heat.
“That could be fun,” I say, hoping I sound casual and not like my heart is suddenly doing triple axels. “We’ll see if there’s time. These meetings can drag on.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow night I have a big family dinner, and when I say I, I mean we, since we’re a couple and all.”
“Uh, how is your father going to take all this? Isn’t there some coach/daughter hands off rule?”
“I’m an adult, Penn. I can date, or get engaged to, whoever I want. Besides, he’s not your coach anymore.”
“Right,” he says, almost like he’s not too sure that’s not going to happen again.
“It’s fine.” I let the curtain fall back into place, and when I think he’s stepped further away than he has, I turn, only to hit a wall.
Except… not a wall.