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"Making out is for later. When I take you to see the lights in the park tonight."
"I didn't agree to let you take me see the lights in the park tonight."
"Not yet, but you will. You're very persuadable when my hands are all over you. Meanwhile, I've got a different physical activity in mind."
I followed the trail of his eyes to the truck bed, where I saw a sled. "You just drive around with that in the back of your truck."
"Doesn't everybody?" he asked, holding his hand out to me. "It's not exactly a sleigh, but…"
"I don't sled," I said, backing away into a corner of the truck.
"Why not?"
"Because I could wipe out, hit my face on a tree and get snow in my panties."
Ben barked with laughter. "That's a super specific fear."
"It's what happened to me the last time I was dumb enough to sledding!"
"It's not going to happen this time," Ben vowed. "I won't let it. C'mon, Becca. The last time you put yourself in my hands things didn't turn out so badly, did they?"
No, they hadn't. Also, I wanted to wipe out the sourness of the morning. Maureen had shaken him. Ben was a different guy now than the one who left to serve his country. At least, I recognized that he was trying on a new role. A role that involved a whole lot of confidence. And like some heckler in the audience, she'd obviously messed with his head. Made him break character.
If sledding is what he needed to get his swagger back, then let it not be said that Becca Vincent resisted taking a little slide down a hill cradled in the very strong arms of a very hunky guy.
Ten sled rides later, exhilarated by the wind on my cheeks, and the trees flying by, and Ben's body wrapped around mine, I had a whole new outlook on sledding.
"Not one wipe out!" I cried, triumphantly.
"Told ya," Ben said, trudging back up the hill with the sled trailing behind us at the end of a rope. Then, suddenly, he stopped and stared at me. "You're gorgeous."
"You're not bad yourself."
"No, I mean you're fucking gorgeous, Becca. Like, you're going to be a huge movie star one day. That frosty pink nose. That smirky little mouth…"
"Bet I'll look even better in the slutty outfit you bought me. When are we going to have a fashion show?"
"Still arranging it," he said.
Oh. So it was still on. And I was starting to lose track of whether or not it turned me on more to think about doing it or to think about the fact that it was Ben who was arranging it. "You're kind of an unlikely pimp, you know…"
"If you think bringing that up is somehow going to mess up the moment we're having here, you're wrong."
I smirked. "We're having a moment?"
"We're having a moment. Go with it."
"Where are we going with it?"
In answer, Ben leaned forward, bending his head to kiss me. When his lips closed over mine, a light snow began to fall. And I was surprised each flake didn't hiss and sizzle when it touched us. Because this kiss, at the top of a snowy hill, was filled with unexpected erotic promise when he drew me against his hard body.
"Go to the light show with me tonight," Ben whispered.
A little bit dazed, I asked, "Why?"
"Because you're wrong about me."
"Yeah?"
