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“I like it.” I like her. A lot.
I like the look of her, yeah. A lot. But I like what shesaysmore.
I like that she makes me laugh and the things that make her smile. I like that she’s smart and bold and a bit of a spitfire. I like that she sings along to the radio and that her laugh sounds like music. I like the way the air feels between us when our eyes meet… and I like that she’s the type to hang out with me for the day because my dickhead-but-not-actually-a-bad-guy teammate dropped my ass on her doorstep and abandoned me.
And I really like when she looks at me like she did when we first got to the farm. Because that look wasn’t about the cheap wet T-shirt stunt I pulled later when I cut the tree down— yeah, I’m not proud —or what I do for a living or what’s in my wallet. That look was curious, and I think it might even have been a little interested too.
4
Misty
By the time we make it to the isolated road leading down to my parents’ place at the lake, it’s after four. The snow’s been coming down in earnest for a while now, but the reason I’m subtly giving in to a sigh of relief is less about the driving conditions and more about the larger-than-life man who’s occupying more than my passenger seat.
He’s too much.
Too easy to talk to.
Too good at making me laugh.
Too close for me not to notice how incredible he smells or how surprisingly sexy the broken line of his nose is. Or how every now and then it feels like the too-small space between us has taken on this subtle charge that’s scrambling my brain.
“Plows don’t get out here?” Noel asks as we slowly navigate the treelined road.
“We’re outside town, so not the regular ones. There’s a guy who clears the roads in the area, but sometimes it takes a while for him to get to our little lane.” I take the turn down our driveway and smile when the motion sensor trips the outside lights, illuminating my parents’ house.
“Nice place. This is where you grew up?”
Pulling to a stop in front of the attached garage, I cut the engine. “Yep. Usually, we’ve got the whole frame of the house strung with Christmas lights, but with my parents visiting my aunt, it’s a little different this year.”
I unbuckle and climb out, slipping a little but catching myself as I flip through the keys on my ring for the door key.
Noel rounds the vehicle, coming to my side. His big hand is light and steadying at my elbow as we walk up the front steps and then warm and distracting at my back as I let us in.
The house is chilly at first, with the thermostat set to fifty while my parents are gone. There’s a light on in the kitchen and one in the upstairs hall, set to timers, so it’s not that dark or spooky, but it’s way easier walking into the emptiness with Noel at my side.
“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve,” I mutter. “There should be Christmas music and a fire and my parents dragging out their hidden gifts from every corner of the house.”
Noel gives a quiet nod beside me, and I want to kick myself for being so insensitive. “Noel, I’m sorry. That was—”
“That was nothing to apologize for. I like hearing what your Christmases are like with your family. It’s reminding me of mine. And as much as I thought I didn’t want that, it’s really nice.” He grins. “Besides, we’re about to Christmas the shit out of this place. It’s going to be awesome by the time your sister shows up. And tomorrow, when your parents areoohing andahhing over the holiday perfection, you can tell them your fiancé helped you out and—”
“I’m meeting him in Vegas that afternoon?”
“Nah.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Stay here with your family. Soak it up… We’ve got the rest of our lives to run off together.”
“You’re a good guy, Noel.” And the more time I spend with him, the more I like him… and even though I know better, it’s in that flirty-feelings kind of way too.
He grins again, leaning close enough to my ear that I can feel his breath against the shell. “Don’t let it get around.”
Pressing a hand to where the butterflies have taken over my belly, I nod and force my legs to move.
I flip on a few lights and turn up the heat, keenly aware of Noel beside me. Trying to keep my eyes from constantly drifting to him, to his hands, his shoulders, his mouth.
Oh my God, stop looking at his mouth!
We open the garage so we can bring the tree in. When we’ve got it in the stand in the open spot where my dad’s car would usually be parked, Noel cuts the twine.
I let out a sputtering cough as the branches bounce out, spraying bits of snow over us both.
