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“For?” Damn, my voice is breathy.
“For the fight last night,” he says, his eyes holding mine. “And for…” He gestures to the snow behind us, where our bodies left indentations.
“Forgiven.”
He studies me the same way I’m studying him, even as he pulls his glove back on. “For both?”
I shrug and pack a ball of snow between my hands. “I mean…it kind of sucks. About last night, I mean. This thing with the exes—it’s important for me to see it through, and I guess I always thought what was important to me was also important to you. I thought that was kind of a best-friend rule.”
He exhales and stares straight ahead at the steadily falling snow. “You’re right.”
I cup my ear and lean in. “Hmm?”
He pushes a wet gloved hand against my face. “Shut it. You know you’re right. I’m not going to pretend to get on board with believing this one-true-love-before-Christmas crap, but…if you need someone to talk to about this nonsense, I don’t want you going to anyone else.”
I purse my lips. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”
“I have my moments.”
“You do. This”—I gesture at the two of us sitting in the snow—“wasn’t one of them.”
“You used to love snowball fights.”
“I still do, just not when there’s only two people and I have zero chance of winning.”
Mark swipes a gloved hand over his reddening nose. “I don’t know. I’m finding I kind of like it with just the two of us.”
My breath catches, even as I tell myself to get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that. He just means right here, in this moment…
Hell, I have no idea what Mark means.
And that’s odd. We may be different, but we get each other. I’ve always been able to read him, and he me. But I’m not at all sure we’ve been reading each other correctly for the past few days.
“Where’s your scared dog?” I ask to get us to safer territory as I scan the yard.
“Your ninny dog is curled up by the fireplace, wanting nothing to do with the snow.”
“Did you know?” I asked, tipping my head up and letting the snowflakes fall gently on my face. “About the storm?”
“I heard people talking about it at the restaurant, but I didn’t know it was going to be this bad. Thought it was just them hoping to get a day off work.”
“The restaurant closed?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. No point in making the employees trudge in when most of the town won’t bother to go out.”
“Sorry. Guess your Christmas by the Bayou pasta dish will have to wait to make its debut.”
“Guess so,” he says shoving to his feet. “What about you? The snow cancel your plans for going into the city?”
“Thoroughly.”
Mark extends a gloved hand, and I take it with both of mine, letting him haul me to my feet. The bulk of our snow clothes makes us awkward, and I slam into him, my gloved hands still cupping his.
I glance up, and he looks down. “What about your list? The guy who lives in the fancy penthouse?”
I shrug and smile. “Guess my meeting with Stephen wasn’t meant to be.”
Mark nods, but neither of us moves away, and once again I have that strange, forbidden feeling that I want to keep touching him. And not with these damn gloves, but skin to skin, flesh to flesh.
