12. SIERRA

CHAPTER 12

SIERRA

Me

Mierda mierda mierda

You were right

I'm in deep shit

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

????

Me

He's so cute Rachel

How was I immune before?

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

Who

Oh. You're talking about Conor

Girl, I don't think you were *ever* immune

You were just fooling yourself

I glance up at the back of his head. His brown hair is combed but a few strands still defy gravity, and his neck is a thick column of muscle just like the rest of him. Dude has an eight pack, and he's not even a professional athlete anymore. I really fooled myself into thinking he was some dorky weirdo these past two years.

Since he's walking ahead of me as he chats up the employee showing us this venue, I take another moment to observe him. And by him, I mean the bubble butt in Conor's SPORTY brand joggers. And the massive thighs underneath.

Okay, no wonder he doesn't wear a lot of dress pants. It must be hard to find something that fits all that muscle.

I grab my phone again.

Me

Cute? Scratch that

He's smoking hot

Have you ever seen his butt?

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

Yes. I may be a single mother but the operating part is *single*

Me

Why did you never hit on him?

Because if I were you without any weird grudges I would have

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

Qué va

You would've killed me

Tho I did debate whether it was worth dying fo r

I snort. That momentarily catches Conor's attention and he glances back at me over his shoulder. But then the woman says something that pulls his attention again.

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

Does this mean you're going to start hitting on him or that he's game for me? Inquiring minds need to know

Me

Neither? Lol

It'd be too weird either way

Rachel Hot Mama Leon

I was kidding btw

I'm not really interested in your man

Me

He's not my

Wtv

She sends me three laughing emoji and I stuff my phone back in the pocket of my coat.

"—Love to host SPORTY 's Christmas party," the woman says in this way that tells me she's been gushing this whole time.

Meanwhile, I haven't been paying any attention. Or at least not to her.

I take a moment to check my surroundings instead of my project partner. Right now, the event room of this hotel is half-finished for a wedding that's happening this weekend. The theme seems to be winter wonderland, which I guess is apropos. Frosted garlands and tinsel, silky white fabrics, and white Christmas lights everywhere .

What matters the most, though, is that it's pretty small for what we need. And not just because it's crammed with tables and chairs except for a dance floor by the stage out front. It'd be hard to make different sections for the activities without causing a crush with all the headquarters employees and plus ones.

Obviously, Conor knows because he keeps the conversation nice and non-committal. "Thanks! Are you a big fan of SPORTY ?"

"Absolutely. Best tennis shoes ever. I may or may not be gifting a new pair to each one of my kids this Christmas." She whirls around and spreads her arms. "Well, what do you think?"

"Could you give us a moment to walk the place on our own?" I ask with a polite smile.

"Of course! Take all the time you need. I'll be at the reception desk." Her eyes positively glow as she backs away from us until she's out the door.

I still whisper just in case there are microphones or something. "It's gonna suck to tell her the place doesn't work. Tag, you're it."

Conor blows a raspberry. "Listen, I've been keeping her distracted while you fiddled with your phone. You should have the decency of being the one who lets her down."

"I'm the one who let the previous guy down." I fold my arms. This is the second place we've visited already and they've both had the same issue.

"Fine." He casts a grumpy look around. "Is there really no way we can make this place work? It's slightly bigger than the other one."

"Let me show you all the ways it won't work." I glide around him towards the stage. "See this? I'm not even sure a whole band would fit in here."

"Oh, shit." Conor's eyes widened. "We haven't thought about sound. Hold up." He plucks his phone out and taps furiously at it as he walks this way.

My own phone buzzes in my pocket and I ignore it, thinking it's another text from Rachel that I definitely wouldn't want him to see.

"I just emailed us both with a reminder to figure out music for the event," Conor says and stands beside me, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

"Cool. So, anyway." I clear my throat, trying not to get distracted by the scent that clings to him. It's nothing super fancy, just freshly showered man, and apparently that's enough to make me send weird texts to my friend. Back to work, I say, "We'd need about that much space for food and drink. Then about the span of those three tables for the ax throwing booth, which would literally leave us with enough space for only one more booth and a small standing area, but no ball pit or other activities. Pretty boring fair. And pray tell, sir, where would we stuff a thousand people in this place?"

"Okay, okay. It doesn't work." He huffs and puts his hands on his hips like some old man. Which immediately makes me think of his Gramps and all the embarrassing things he spewed out about his grandson. "Now what?"

I shrug. "I guess we go to the next place."

Conor throws his head back with another one of those groans that sound R-rated. We both grow still. Me, while I observe the tension of his neck tendons. Him, looking up.

Wait, why?

I lift my eyes too. "Oh, no."

"It wasn't me," Conor says, as though there was a smidge of suspicion in my mind that he was somehow behind the mistletoe hanging above us.

He is solely responsible for the way my pulse takes off like a rocket, though.

"Um… "

"We don't have to kiss." Conor tilts his head back down so our eyes meet. "There's literally no one else to know."

Wait, so he's trying to get out of kissing me? Does he not want to? Am I the only one who finds him attractive now?

I don't know how it didn't occur to me until this literal moment that he may not feel the same way. Like, I'm cute and I know it. Medium height, medium build, pretty face, even better hair. I have no problem getting guys's attention. The challenge is in keeping it, because I'm more intense and driven than they tend to prefer—as said by my college ex and a couple other guys I dated later.

And I guess that's why. I've only ever shown Conor my bad side. I have no right being shocked if he doesn't find me attractive.

That rankles.

I fold my arms in what I hope looks like a disinterested way and say, "Well, I don't know about you but I'd rather have no bad luck."

"Hmm." Conor rubs his beard and I wait. "That would definitely suck."

Oh.

My heart starts hammering against my ribcage. "Yeah, I think we've both had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime."

"Right. Okay. So." He turns enough to face me even though we're still two paces apart. "Tell me how you want to do this."

"Huh?" I blink hard, not registering a single word he's said because he's taking another step forward and oh my goodness, he's tall . I don't think I'll be able to reach him even when I put my arms around his neck.

Wait. A. Moment. Am I about to put my arms around Conor Mahoney's neck? The guy I've hated on for two years?

Moreover, am I really going to put my mouth on his ?

I double check and sure enough, there's still mistletoe hanging right above us. A whole ass bushel too, in case anyone tries to miss it.

"I mean…" His voice lowers and I steel my body against the shiver it threatens to produce. "I have no idea what you like. Soft or hard?"

"What?"

His mouth twitches. "Soft or hard kisses, Sierra?"

Right now, either or. Both. As long as there's at least one.

I take a final step closer until our chests touch and I look up. Up. Amusement glints in his pretty eyes, like he thinks this is all a joke. Guess it's time to show him this is serious business.

I put my hands on his chest and slowly slide them up. His face transforms first into surprise that we're doing this, and then his eyes lower to my lips. I lick them slowly, sweeping the tip of my tongue softly across my bottom lip. Now I feel his heart beat hard against my hand.

"Go big or go home, Conor," I say with a raspy voice that shocks even me.

His eyes lift to mine, searching for something I guess he must find because the next second, Conor splays his hand on my lower back and pushes me against him. I gasp, worried that I'll lose my balance, until his other hand sneaks through my hair to hold the back of my head.

And then his mouth is on mine.

Duro , I think in the quiet of my mind. He definitely chose the right option.

I do the same to him and run my hand through his hair to push him closer. His lips suckle my bottom one with intent, his beard scratching softly against the skin of my chin. One quick sensation of his tongue against my lip has me gasping and that's all Conor needs to deepen the kiss.

Coercing my mouth open with his gets him full access. Feeling his tongue caress mine tears a guttural groan from deep within me. I feel so hot all over that I'm sure he'd never need to chop wood again if he keeps kissing me like this, I'll become fire myself.

He pulls away for a breath and I scratch at his neck to bring him closer. But then our noses bump and he's kissing the other corner of my lips, starting all over. Sighing against his lips, I let my hand roam from his chest to his shoulder, feeling the coiled strength there as he holds me from melting into a puddle on the floor.

"Still hard?" he asks against my lips, his voice almost choked up.

It takes me a second to figure out what he's talking about and then I remember he means the intensity. "Try soft now."

"‘Kay."

Oh. I'm gonna die.

It's even better when he takes his sweet time savoring my lips like we have all day. Every lick and gently applied suction travels all the way down to my curling toes. I've never been kissed like this. It's always been a means to an end—one that is definitely not going to happen on the stage of a hotel's event room. This was basically a dare that will just end in a gotcha , but I'm sure as hell going to enjoy every second of it.

I tilt my face until I capture his upper lip between my teeth, scraping them softly. His hot breath fans against my skin carrying the scent of the coffee we drank on the way. I can still savor it when I run my tongue across his lips and this time, he's the one making that sound that immediately transports me to a dimly lit room.

"Conor, you need to stop making that sound." I pant against his mouth. "Or at least don't make it in public."

"What?" He sounds confused or in pain. Maybe both.

I pull away slightly and it takes him a longer moment than me to open his eyes. His glasses have slid dangerously low and I raise one hand to push them up the bridge of his nose.

"Don't moan, Conor. You sound way too sexy to be in public."

"I—" He swallows hard. "Okay. Thank you?"

My lips tingle as I smile and the gesture attracts his attention again. His look bruised and wet, and I'm sure the woman waiting for us outside is going to know what we were up to right away. Especially if his beard has irritated the skin of my face.

So, I guess if I kiss him again it's going to get even more obvious, huh?

My voice also doesn't sound fit for the public as I say, "I think we've secured our good luck, don't you think?"

Slowly, he unwinds his hand from my neck and trails it down. The calluses in his hand against the skin of my neck release a traitorous shiver from me. His eyes are dark as he continues deliberately running that hand down my spine, until it meets his other one at my waist.

"To be honest…" Conor takes a deep breath in and as he releases it, he takes a step back until his hands drop at his sides. "I'm not sure I can think right now."

I choke and cough. If the color of his face is anything to go by, the kiss affected him just as much.

"Um." I clear my throat. "Here's the deal, I'm not as bad a blusher as you are so I'll go tell the hotel employee that we have an emergency and you sneak out the back, okay?"

His chest works harder for oxygen even than mine. "Good idea. I'll, uh, wait for you in the truck."

"You do that." I turn quickly and hurry down the hallway in the middle of the tables, but something makes me stop. I glance at him over my shoulder. Conor's still standing in the middle of the stage, his glasses on one hand and the other one running down his face. When it's visible again, it somehow seems redder than before.

I did that. I kissed my former foe under the mistletoe and made it impossible for him to walk out in public.

I slam my hand against my aching lips to contain a squeal.