Something was up with the Winters boys.
Chloe pushed down on the bike pedal, gritting her teeth. She wasn't an idiot. Anyone could see that Jack was behaving strangely; after their night together, he had practically jumped out of bed, sprinting towards the toilet like a bat out of hell. Like, come on. Chloe had morning breath, but was it that bad?
She pedaled harder.
And then there was Logan. He kissed her at the cocktail party, took her skating, and then invited her on a ski holiday to France. But when Chloe asked him to kiss her at La Folie Douce, he had balked. And then basically shot down the mountain.
She cringed. Ugh.
So embarrassing.
She wiped at the sweat clinging to her brow. No, not embarrassing — strange. Both Winters boys had gone completely and totally mad this December.
And she had no idea why.
"Oh my god," Rowan groaned. "I cannot believe you talked me into this."
She was panting, keeled over the front of her bike. Sweaty red clumps of hair clung to the nape of her neck. Black mascara pooled under her eyes, and Chloe smirked.
"I told you not to wear make-up."
"I hate exercise," Rowan moaned. "And I hate you."
"You love me."
"I'm burning your Christmas gift."
"Don't you dare," Chloe said, her eyes narrowing. "Or I'll buy you a year-long SoulCycle subscription."
Rowan glared at her. Up front, the perky instructor was lifting weights in a way that Chloe wasn't sure was physically feasible for her. Remixed Michael Bublé pumped through the speakers, thrumming in time with the red and green lights.
"It's festive," Chloe continued, picking up her weights. "You said you wanted to do more holiday activities, right?"
"Like eating mince pies."
"We can do that after."
Rowan looked slightly mollified. Chloe lifted her weight, grunting slightly.
"You know," Rowan said, pulling a face as she shifted slightly on the bike, "this is the most action I've gotten in weeks."
"I thought you were seeing that Fred guy? The singer?"
Rowan waved her off. "I'm airing him. Anyways, I only dated him because he reminded me of Lewis Capaldi."
Chloe sighed. "Welcome to the celibate club, mate." She paused. "Actually, can it be a club if it's only for single people? Seems terribly ironic."
"Wait, what?" Rowan whipped around to look at her. "You still haven't slept with Logan?"
"We've barely even kissed."
Chloe's cheeks felt hot, and she decided to blame it on the sweaty room. She could feel Rowan gaping at her.
"Why not?"
"Well, it's not my idea," Chloe snapped. "I want to kiss him, obviously."
"But?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess he's not in the mood."
"Bullshit," Rowan said derisively. "Men are always in the mood." She glanced at the instructor before fiddling with the dial, letting out a sigh of relief. "Have I mentioned how much I hate spin?"
"Did you turn your resistance down?" Chloe asked, amused.
Rowan pointedly ignored this. "Why don't you just jump him?" She reached for her water bottle. "See what happens."
"I can't just jump him."
"Why not?"
"Well, I—" Chloe sputtered. "What if he doesn't want me?"
"You're in marketing, aren't you?" Rowan demanded. "Invite him over to the flat. Dress up a little. Put on some nice music. Make him want you." She took a sip of water. "You sell things all the time, right?"
"Things like perfumes," Chloe said, horrified. "And watches."
"So?"
"So I'm a person!"
"You're a product," Rowan corrected her. "And you're trying to close a deal." She wiped her forehead with a towel. "All you have to do is convince him to buy it."
Chloe whacked her with a towel. "You're disgusting, Row."
"I'm also right."
"So, what?" Chloe raised her eyebrows. "I invite Logan over to make gingerbread houses tonight and then pounce on him?"
"A little sugar and spice," Rowan said, waggling her eyebrows. "I like it."
Chloe flipped her off, and Rowan chuckled, turning back to face their instructor. She gritted her teeth. God damn it; Rowan was right. She needed to buck up and just do something already. She would text Logan. As soon as this spin class was over.
She pedaled harder.
Logan Winters had no idea what was coming for him.
Chloe scrambled around the flat like a madwoman.
Where the hell was her flat iron? She smoothed down her dark fringe, huffing out a breath. Good god. She looked like Edward Scissorhands, minus the sharp appendages. So just a young Johnny Depp, really. But not a cute one.
"Nice apron," Rowan said, and Chloe flipped her off.
Her flatmate was lying upside-down on their sofa, her red hair pooling on the carpet. An empty packet of salt and vinegar crisps lay next to her. Chloe watched as Rowan nudged the packet with her nose, moving it like a seal.
"Can you chuck that in the bin?" Rowan asked.
Chloe complied. "Have you seen my flat iron?"
"Bottom cabinet in the toilet."
Chloe raced to the drawer, grinning triumphantly as she wrested the hair tool from its hiding place. Sneaky bugger. Rowan gave her an amused look.
"How long until Logan's here?"
Chloe checked her watched, then groaned. "Ten minutes."
"Want me to set up the gingerbread houses?"
"Won't you be late for dinner?"
Rowan waved her off. "This is more important. Obviously."
Chloe shot her a grateful smile before swiveling back to the mirror, trying desperately to tame the errant dark curls. Rowan cracked open the gingerbread-making kit, laying out the white and red icing bags, coloured candies, and gingerbread wedges with methodical precision. Chloe arched an eyebrow.
"What?" Rowan shrugged. "I work at a luxury make-up counter; I know how to make things look pretty."
"I owe you. Like, a million."
"You can pay me in coffee."
The doorbell rang. Chloe froze. Rowan immediately dashed to the window, her heels making click-click noises on the hardwood.
"I see a blond head," she confirmed. "He's early."
Chloe moaned. "No!"
"Yup."
"Should we leave him outside?"
"In this weather?" Rowan gave her a skeptical look. "You're lucky that there's two of them, because one of them is about to turn into a human popsicle."
She shrugged on her coat. Chloe put her hand on her hip, scowling. "Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"
"To dinner, you muppet."
"You don't want to meet him?"
"And watch the love fest?" Rowan pulled a face. "Unlikely."
Chloe stuck her tongue out as Rowan descended in the lift, buzzing Logan in. He appeared a moment later in their doorway, carrying a bottle of red wine and a bouquet of flowers. He was panting slightly. From the six flights of stairs, no doubt.
"Here," he said breathlessly. "These are for you."
Chloe's chest warmed. "Jasmine," she said, inhaling the floral fragrance. "They're beautiful."
She half-expected Logan to wink and say, Just like you. It certainly wouldn't have been out of character. But Logan merely shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the rack, and then buried Chloe in a bone-crushing hug.
Chloe melted.
Yup. This was better than cheesy, half-arsed compliments. For sure.
Then Logan pulled back and his whole face changed.
"I—" He blinked. "Holy shit."
Chloe's cheeks warmed. She smoothed down her black dress self-consciously, resisting the urge to wipe her face. The kohl eyeliner was too much. She knew it. And why the hell did she let Rowan talk her into red lipstick? Oh, god, this was a disaster. Logan was going to make so much fun of her and—
"You look beautiful," he breathed. "Seriously, Chloe. I just..." He shook his head. "Wow."
"Thanks," she said, her face on fire. "You want a drink?"
Chloe busied herself pouring the red wine. When she turned, Logan was rummaging through her kitchen drawers, pulling out a selection of knives. Chloe paused.
"What are you doing?"
Logan gave her an exasperated look. "Well, we can't exactly smear the icing on with our hands, can we?"
"No, I..." Chloe set down the wine. "How did you know where those were?"
Logan froze. "Lucky guess?"
Chloe looked at him narrowly. He was fidgeting with a butter knife, twirling it around and around in his hands, like a bizarre tilt-a-whirl. Something was definitely up.
"Wine?" she asked, thrusting it towards him.
"Thanks."
They sat down at the table. Logan reached immediately for the gingerbread slabs, deftly gluing them together. Chloe blinked. She didn't think Logan had ever changed the oil in his car, let alone constructed a small building. He wasn't really one for handy tasks.
"You sure you don't want to decorate?" she offered.
"Nah." He had already finished the base. "You're better at that sort of thing."
"Shingling candy roofs?"
He winked. "Making things look pretty."
Chloe grinned. There was the Logan she knew. She'd never been so relieved to hear a cheesy compliment.
"How about some music?" she asked.
She flicked on the song. After hours of scrolling through YouTube, she had miraculously managed to track down a One Direction cover of "Santa Claus is Coming To Town." Harry Styles and sleigh bells filled the room.
Logan pulled a face. "Oh, my god. Really?"
"What?"
"This crap?"
Chloe stared at him. "I thought you loved One Direction."
"Oh." Logan blinked. "Well, yes, I do. Obviously." His hand was shaking as he turned back to the icing. "But I hate Christmas music."
"You hate Christmas music?"
"Yup."
"All of it?"
"Most of it." Logan carefully put the roof on the house. "It's something about the melody. It's so..." He paused. "Happy."
Chloe stared at him. Was he also secretly green and hellbent on terrorizing Whoville?
"Okay, Scrooge," she said, scrolling through her phone. "What music do you want then?" She was seized by sudden inspiration. "What about this?"
She changed the song to soft jazz. Rowan had said to go for sexy, right? Jazz was sexy. Logan ran a hand through his hair, giving her an odd look.
"Since when do you like jazz?"
Well, she didn't. But that was irrelevant. Chloe wracked her brains. Sexy. How did one be sexy? Okay. Take Rowan's advice. Pretend she was a product. It all began with the visual appeal, right? She just had to make Logan want the packaging.
Chloe leaned forward, and Logan's eyes flicked to her chest.
Good.
This was good.
She shifted slightly on the stool, letting her dress dip further. Logan immediately averted his gaze, swallowing hard. Crap. That wasn't the plan. Chloe crossed one leg over the other, letting her dress ride up her thigh. Maybe if she—
The stool tipped.
Oh, no.
Chloe shrieked, toppling sideways. Logan immediately shot forward. She flung her arms out desperately, wrapping them around his neck, and he pulled her unceremoniously on to his lap. Chloe let out a shaky breath.
"I... thanks."
Her heartbeat was rocketing in her chest. She could feel his pulse racing in time with her own. Logan looked away, his jaw working.
"No problem."
His voice came out hoarse. Chloe didn't blame him; she felt about a second away from fainting. Slowly, she reached up, running her thumb over his cheekbone. It came away smudged with red goo.
"Icing," she whispered.
Logan met her gaze. For once, Chloe was sitting at eye level, and she sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes — normally so blue — were almost black, his pupils blown out like ink in water. Heat rushed through her body.
"You can get down now," he murmured.
Chloe shifted slightly closer, and Logan groaned. He sounded almost in pain.
"Chloe," he said raggedly. "Please."
She wasn't sure what he was begging for, exactly. But Chloe wasn't about to ask questions. She kept her hand on his face as she leaned closer, brushing her lips over his. It was the gentlest of kisses. A midnight whisper.
She might as well have thrown a match on a pile of kindling.
Logan seized her roughly, pulling her closer. His hands were everywhere: the nape of her neck, her spine, her lower back. Chloe breathed him in greedily. He tasted like chocolate orange and gingerbread, like sweet and spice and heat. God, this must be what drug addicts felt like, she thought dizzily. She just couldn't get enough.
"Wait," he said breathlessly. "Stop."
She ignored this, nibbling the sensitive skin by his ear, and Logan groaned.
"Chloe, we can't."
Her heart fell. "You don't want to?"
"Trust me," he growled, his hands still fisted in her hair. "That's not the problem."
"Good," she said fiercely. "Then shut-up and kiss me."
And she did exactly that.