Page 38

PATRICK

Cami tastes like spiced hot chocolate. Like cool air and the holidays and the little bursts of light you see when you close your eyes at night.

I can’t get enough of her, hands on her back and hip, tugging her in closer to me. There are so many layers between us, and I want to feel her chest against mine, her breathing as I breathe. She smells good, too, like herself but also like this place. Like rye bread and good beer and so much spiced cake.

I tilt her head, kiss her deeper, slide one hand up and into her hair. How could I have been around her this long without doing this? Without touching her, kissing her, pulling her into my arms? Now that I’ve crossed the line into this new reality, this new place where kissing her is an option, I feel like I’ll never go back.

As we kiss, my mind runs through all the times I could have done this. When she first started working at the office, she was so beautiful that it was immediately distracting. The first time she came to my office to discuss the matter of the holiday decorations and didn’t back down when I dismissed her.

Any number of late nights in the office.

The week before this trip, all that time alone we had in my house. Her in her Christmas pajamas, when she would have tasted like gingerbread or cinnamon or mulled wine. I could have kissed her then, could have touched her like this, could have had her right under my hands where I want her.

And instead, I pushed away the thoughts of her. Told myself that I didn’t even notice the new account manager. Told myself that it didn’t bother me in the slightest, having her stay with me. That her soft, cozy pajamas didn’t make me want to hug her at all.

That night, when we were sitting in the living room together, I jumped at the first chance to ignore what I was feeling. I got up to answer Chris’s call when I could have been doing this instead. I wish I could go back and give past Patrick a lesson on what matters in life. When it comes to the choice between kissing this woman or taking a phone call, I’ll always choose her.

Which I prove when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.

Cami freezes when I reach down, but I don’t even pull it out. Instead, I find the silence button, press it, and pull her right back in.

Kissing her is better than any business proposal.

Cami relaxes again, sighing against my lips. Her hands roam down from my shoulders, up over my back, and I feel the pressure of them through my coat. We’re in the middle of the snow, beneath the most beautiful lights I’ve ever seen, and I’m kissing the woman of my dreams.

It’s too late now for me to pretend I don’t feel anything for her. Too late now for me to act like I don’t know what she meant by “when things changed between us.” Because she didn’t just mean literally. She meant in the way we look at each other. In the things we want from each other.

Things changed between us the moment I offered this arrangement.

The moment she showed up at my house, moved in with me, and brought light into my life. All the Christmas movies and the decorations and meals, her laughter coming from another room. The smell of a roast when the only thing I’ve known for years is chicken breast and vegetables. The permission to indulge in company, in good food, in beautiful things. The knowledge that I would be coming home not to an empty building but to a woman with the strongest will I have ever seen.

We kiss and kiss, breathing each other in as the lights dance over our heads. It feels like a blessing, like the universe acknowledging that this is the most miraculous thing that’s ever happened. When my eyes flutter open, when we break to rest our foreheads against each other for a moment before returning to the kiss, I see the bright, otherworldly light playing over her face, and it just makes her more beautiful, more enchanting. Ethereal.

I’ve kissed a lot of women in a lot of beautiful places. Miami has its fair share of sandy beaches and jaw-dropping vistas. I even once took a woman on a date in a helicopter and kissed her over the city as it spread out beneath us.

None of that compares to this moment. To grazing my teeth over Cami’s bottom lip, swallowing the tiniest sigh as it escapes from her. Feeling her breath, her movements, wanting to pick her up and take her somewhere quieter. Somewhere alone.

“Hey! Lovebirds!”

As though in response to my thoughts, someone calls out into the night, their voice echoing across the snow and into the night around us, shattering the moment.

Cami and I break apart like two teenagers who’ve been caught kissing in the back of the movie theater, and not two adults who are, apparently, engaged to one another. Cami is breathing hard, and I can’t tear my eyes from her, even as the person who interrupted us is walking closer, their boots crunching through the snow.

Cami is beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And maybe it’s stupid, but I feel like all of her and Chris and David’s talking points have gotten to me. If I had to choose between Cami and the toy company at this point…

“The guide said we can’t stay much longer,” Gloria says, chuckling at us and shaking her head in our direction. “Boy, you guys really got some distance from us. We can barely see the cruiser from here!”

Over our heads, the lights are nearly done, nothing but a few ribbons of faint light remaining. Cami tips her head up to take the rest of it in. Maybe it would have been better if we weren’t kissing the entire time they were visible, but I wouldn’t change what just happened for the world.

If Cami wants another chance to see the northern lights, I’ll bring her as many times as she wants. We can stay out here for the whole winter, if it will make her happy.

“We thought you’d been eaten by wolves!” one of the boys says, looking around comically as though a feral animal might be around any corner.

Cami instantly glances around, eyes going wide at the mention of wolves. Maybe she zoned out earlier, when we were on the snow cruiser and the guide was talking about the potential dangers out here. Why it was important that nobody get too far from the cruiser.

“Don’t worry,” I hum, taking it as an excuse to put my arm around her and tug her body back against mine. “I’ll protect you.”

“Can you protect her from cheesy pick-up lines?” David asks.