Mistletoe and Mr. Right by Lyla Payne

you not like him or something?”
    â€œGrady? I like him fine. I like the idea of having my girlfriend out alone with him all day a little less.”
    The response turns his pouting decidedly
not
adorable, lifting the buried annoyances up onto my tongue. “Well, you could have come with me. But obviously you’d rather spend your time elsewhere today.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know, that you’d rather curl up in front of the fire with your ex-girlfriend than hang out with your current one?”
    He stands up, eyes flashing, teeth grinding together. “No one told you to go horseback riding with Grady today. In fact, no one told you to come here at all, and now you want me to rearrange my time with my family because you’re not happy with the way your little manipulative surprise turned out?”
    The words pelt me like shots from a paintball gun, exploding in ugly splotches as they slam into my torso, arms, neck. It stings and it smells, and I blink back the tears filling me eyes. “Well, if that’s how you really feel about getting to spend some extra time with me, then I don’t know what we’re even doing here, Brennan.”
    His shoulders droop. “Look, it’s not how I feel about spending time with you. I just . . . this is . . . I don’t know. Not what I expected.”
    Not what I wanted
seems to be more what he’s thinking.
    Brennan’s eyes meet mine, and they echo the confusion tripping up my reactions at every turn. “But regardless, I don’t like the idea of you being alone with another guy.”
    â€œWell, I’m not going to sit around here all day.” I wait for him to change his mind about coming along, and when he doesn’t, I take a deep breath through my nose then blow it out through my mouth, wiping tears with the back of my hand. “I’d better get going.”
    I pause, waiting for an apology that doesn’t come, then head out into the cold.

Chapter Seven
    â€œReady then?” Grady growls when I step outside, squinting in the bright sunshine. He peers closer at my face and his frown deepens as he steps toward me. “Are you crying?”
    â€œNo.” Not anymore.
    I make it clear with my tone and crossed arms that questions aren’t welcome even though the concern etched on his handsome face makes me want to fall into his arms and sob away my troubles. He respects my nonverbal cues, though it doesn’t stop his expression of disgust.
    The chill in the air does nothing to dampen the beauty of gray-blue skies stretching all the way to the horizon. Pristine white snow, nothing like the black slush that passes for the same thing in cities at home, and the gray rock and purple hues pushing through on the hillsides remind me that while the States can be beautiful in the winter, I’m not there. I’m somewhere new and wonderful, and this is an adventure that shouldn’t be wasted no matter how things turn out between my boyfriend and me.
    I cast a glance at Grady, who’s stretching his arms above his head and taking in the scenery with a rapt expression that would be more at home on someone who doesn’t wake up to such a thing every single day.
    Excitement dribbles past my sorrow. “I’m ready. How are we getting there?”
    â€œThe McCormacks are just a couple of plots over. We’ll walk unless you’d rather not.” His blue eyes, brighter than the sky today, dare me to object.
    Thoughts of cold, wet feet and the likelihood of stepping in clumps of mud—or what I hope will be mud—dance through my head. The great outdoors and I have a relationship of respect. Which is to say I stay out of it as much as possible and it agrees not to go out of its way to kill me.
    That said, there is no way I’m giving Grady the satisfaction of proving I’m not up to this little excursion before we even get out the