My stomach immediately clenched at the thought of kissing Miles. Again. Although the puckered grandma kiss we had shared wasn’t one for the books, I had a feeling that if I ever really allowed Miles to kiss me, the effects could be devastating. “A sweet little kiss on the cheek sounds perfect. The kind you’d give your mom on Christmas morning.”
He put his hands behind his head, a smile beginning to form on his face. “If you think I would kiss my girlfriend on her cheek under mistletoe, you’ve got another thing coming.”
I raised my chin, not allowing his words to distract me from my purpose, which was to keep us in line—or more specifically,himin line. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” He looked genuinely curious.
“Things will…get into our heads.”
“What are you worried about getting into your head?” Miles asked. He had crossed his leg over his knee and was now looking at me innocently.
I scowled at him. “Nothing.”
“Good. All I know is that we have a fake-dating agreement. We have to do everything on the list.” He peered closer at the bingo card and held it out to me, pointing to a square. “And it says mistletoe kiss right here.”
“Fine,” I said. “But if your heart gets broken, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Miles gave no sign that he heard me, except for a slight pause before he continued reading off the schedule. “Tuesday, we’ll milk cows, drink fresh chocolate milk…”
He droned on, but my mind was stuck on the “fresh” part of the chocolate milk. I didn’t have any sort of dairy allergy–thank goodness, because I was a big fan of pizza and ice cream. But straight milk was a different matter altogether, especially if I had to squeeze it right from the udder with my own two hands. I couldn’t quite stomach the thought.
He cleared his throat, snapping me out of my worried thoughts. “One more thing for tonight.”
“What?”
“My parents want to have us over for ice cream sundaes tonight after the lodge closes.”
I froze, wide-eyed. “What? Why?”
“Because they want to meet my girlfriend.” He grinned cheekily.
“I’ve already met them both, and I’m not really your girlfriend.”
“That’s not the line we’re feeding everybody here, though, is it?”
“What did you tell them about us?”
I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his face might have reddened a tiny bit. “Just that I knew you were coming and wanted to surprise you. And them.”
“I don’t want to.”
“We’re going.”
“No.”
“It’s part of our cover.”
“No.”
We were still having the same argument hours later, after a day of learning to make cheese, roasting a chestnut, and, of course, decorating cookies. Miles had been a decent sport through it all, though I did have to remove all the candy from sitting in front of him and force him to decorate more than one cookie. By the end, it was almost as exhausting as decorating with two-year-olds. Although, two-year-olds probably wouldn’t sit that close to me, or rub my back, or play with my hair to annoy me when all of my concentration was on piping a border around my cookies. Suffice it to say, I was officially wiped out from the day of holiday fun, and the idea of keeping up the ruse in front of his parents was almost too much for me to handle.
“On second thought, I think I’m about to come down with that violent stomach bug.” I tugged against his arm as we stepped onto the pathway that led toward the farmhouse.
Miles didn’t even slow, just kept pulling me along beside him. “You’re so strait-laced at school. I had no idea you were such a liar.”
“I don’t want to be with your parents like this. They think we’re really dating.”
“So do your parents.”