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“Or your grandma deciding to surprise you,” he taunted in return, and pushed off of the wet ground. Brushing some snow from his jeans, he helped me stand up. I straightened the hem of my dress and lifted my gaze to meet his twinkling eyes. He reached forward, adjusted my beanie and sighed.
“Maybe the bleachers would’ve been a safer bet.” I grinned, and he shook his head, instinctively reaching for the hat that wasn’t there. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair.
He watched me quietly for one more moment, longing for more. I ached, wanting to feel him like that again.
“Where to first?” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Gingerbread house making or there is a whole bunch—”
And I cut him off with a squeal. He already mentioned the magic activity I was craving. Well, other than finding another private getaway with Weston to finish what had only just begun.
Grabbing his hand, I tugged him around to the bustling town square again.
“I want to build a gingerbread house with you ,and then we need to enter you into the Ugly Christmas Sweater contest. Oh, and there’s a few little booths I want to stop at.” I stated, weaving through the crowd.
“I’ll have you know, Millie and Keaton made this sweater for me,” he said coolly, and I giggled.
“And it looks absolutely dashing,” I replied, but didn’t turn to look at him as I continued to drag him toward my first desired destination.
Whispers reached my ears as we neared the Gingerbread house making booth. Quiet observations about Weston. He stood out regardless of the scar on his face by his simple height and rather large, imposing build. But, of course, the murmuring crowds were focused on a part of him that had forced him to hide away for years. I prayed he didn’t pay them much mind as we approached the booth that smelled of nutmeg, ginger, and frosting.
Several long, white tables were placed beneath the red tent that jingled in the breeze. A plump, jolly lady smiled, her apron covered in flour and sticky frosting. She smoothed out some curls as I returned her friendly greeting.
“Just the two of you? We are having a contest when you’re all finished, so don’t forget to enter,” she began, her voice light and squeaky. The edges of her eyes crinkled as I nodded, dancing between my feet.
Weston silently dug into his pocket and paid for our supplies. She led us under the tent and around a couple tables that were already occupied. Eyes tracked us as he kept his head slightly ducked. My fingers tightened in his hand, swamped by his grip. I was so excited as she gestured to a small table in the corner, just for the two of us.
Without prompting, Weston pulled out the chair for me to sit down in. My cheeks burned red hot, but I absolutely loved it. He really was trying to go all out for me ,and I plopped myself on the seat happily.
He took the seat across from me, and we waited as the lady brought us a whole bunch of frosting, gingerbread, and candy.
Squealing once more in glee, we got to work.
I was sitting on my legs an hour later, trying to frost a gumdrop onto the top of the house. Weston popped another candy in his mouth, and I rolled my eyes. “You’re going to get a sick stomach if you keep eating all of that sugar.”
He raised a brow and deliberately placed another licorice bite onto his tongue. “I think you’re more upset that I’m eating your decorations,” he replied.
Without thinking, I turned the frosting tube and squirted it directly at him. It splattered across his face and he blinked, shocked.
I slammed a hand over my mouth, as surprised by my actions as he was.
He stared at me.
I stared at him.
He swiped a finger across the frosting.
My cheeks burned crimson hot.
He licked the frosting off of his finger.
I blinked rapidly, stunned.
A grin spread across his face, wicked and cunning as he grabbed a second, nearly full frosting tube.
“Don’t you dare,” I cautioned.
But it fell on deaf ears as he pointed the tube directly at me, and I braced for impact from a sticky stream of frosting.
Which never came. Instead, a thud sounded, and several loud gasps forced my eyes open.
