I stay quiet, feeling nervous again. I'm not used to this side of Sebastian. The rare moments when he gets vulnerable and doesn't hide behind his grumpy, arrogant persona make me want to know everything about him.

And that scares me. All this is ending soon. I don't need more heartache.

I finish my pie, trying to ignore the little pieces of grief popping up, thinking about my grammy and all the confusion around Sebastian. When I get done, I turn to him. "You have to tell me where we're going now."

"Why is that?"

I huff. "Because I kissed you."

His lips twitch. "That was more of a pity kiss, not a real kiss."

I scoff. "Is that right?"

He stares me down and challenges, "Definitely. You need to give me a real kiss if you want to know."

The voice in my head tells me to scoot out of the booth and run, in order to save the future of my heart. I ignore it and reach for his face. I tug him toward me, then kiss him as if my life depended on it.

He kisses me back and slides his hand under my shirt, palming my bare skin. Tingles race down my spine. We kiss until I force myself to pull an inch away from his mouth and murmur, "Where are we going?"

He looks nervous, and it strikes me as odd. Sebastian Cartwright is not an unconfident man, at least not that I've seen. But he definitely looks anxious. He answers, "I assume you're into holiday stuff?"

"Duh!"

His nerves disappear, and the arrogant confidence that makes my knees weaken appears. "Perfect!"

"So, where are we going?" I repeat.

"The entire month of December, there's a Christmas Wonderland on the river."

"That sounds fun," I chirp.

He nods. "They have games to play, vendors for shopping, and the river is full of lights. Is that something you'd want to go to?"

"Do snowmen need snow?" I question.

He bites on his smile. "Did you just make that up?"

"Yep."

"That was pretty good, Sunshine," he praises.

I confess, "You know I'm a Christmas junkie, right?"

He chuckles. "I had a feeling you were." He gives me a chaste kiss. He tosses money on the table and orders, "Let's get going."

I slide out of the booth, and he follows, grabbing my hand. He leads me out of the restaurant. I hold my head higher and squeeze his hand tighter as we pass the women.

We get outside, and instead of leading me to the truck, he guides me the opposite way, stating, "It's only about three blocks. Are you good to walk?"

"A walk sounds good after all that food," I admit.

We stroll through the town in silence, and excitement builds inside me when the lights start to come into view.