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“Be careful, she is ashark,” I insist.
After that, the party is easy. There are games and there is a giant amount of food and drink. “It’s nice meeting your teammates,” she says as Heidi Jo shuffles the deck with the flair of a dealer in Las Vegas. “Who knew Tank would wear a baby carrier on his days off?”
“Right?” Georgia, our publicist exclaims. “Men look extra hot wearing babies on their chests.”
“I will bear that in mind,” I say, and everyone laughs.
“Your English reallydidget better last year,” Castro says. “How’d you do that, Chiara?”
“I quizzed him every time I saw him,” she says with a shrug. “He is motivated by desserts.”
Another laugh. And the time just flies by. This party is twice as fun for me this year as it was last year. Having Chiara at my side is a big part of it.
Being able to understand what my teammates say doesn’t hurt, either.
The party ends before I’m ready. Suddenly it is time to help stack the plates and cups. I’m filled with a new kind of anticipation, though, as Chiara collects her handbag. We say our goodnights, and then we walk down the building’s stairwell together to reach my floor.
I realize we’ve fallen silent as I unlock my apartment. “What else do Finns do on Christmas Eve?” Chiara asks.
“Oh, a great many things. Now I must pour you a small glass of Finnish brandy flavored with cloudberries. And then we wait for the Christmas Goat.”
“The…sorry?”
I smile at the look on her face. “It’s true. Our word for Santa Claus really means Christmas Goat. Don’t ask.” I follow her into the apartment, acutely aware that we’re alone again. “Chiara, I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Thank you for today.”
“Today was the best,” she says softly. She lifts her dark eyes to mine. “Seeing you again has made me so happy.”
“Come and taste the cloudberry brandy,” I say, taking her by the hand. “We will end the night with a toast.” At the kitchen counter, I find two little glasses and pour a modest amount of liquor into each one. “What shall we toast?”
“To our lucky new year,” she says, raising her glass. “Both of us.”
We drink, and I hold her dark eyes. “But you found the almond,” I remind her. “All the luck belongs to you.”
“Not in English,” she says firmly. She sets her glass down, and puts a hand in the center of my chest. “Maybe you’ve heard this idiom—getting lucky?”
I chuckle, as my skin heats beneath her hand. “I do know that one. Yes. The boys speak of this a lot.”
“See, that takestwopeople.” She gives an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
I clasp a hand over hers. “You are a very smart girl. I knew it the first time I saw you.”
“That’s what you were thinking about?” she asks with a soft smile. “My intelligence quotient? I could have sworn you were staring at my ass.”
“I can do many things at once,” I whisper, lowering my head slowly towards hers. “I speak poor English, but I am multitalented.”
Her eyes fill with heat as I claim her mouth for my own. Her lips soften immediately beneath mine. I set my glass on the counter as I hasten to pull her body against mine. As I kiss her again, her hands are already full of my short hair.
Last night I was gentle. There are moments for caution, and moments for certainty.
This is the second kind. I bend my knees and scoop her up into my arms, lifting her to the counter. It is better now—she doesn’t have to lift her chin to kiss me. I brace a hand at her knee and deepen our kisses.
Her dark eyes flash, and she whimpers for me. And now we are speaking the same language. Her knees are clamped at my hips, and her hands are working the buttons of my shirt. She works fast. As the two halves of the shirt separate, warm hands find my chest.
This is wonderful. This is everything. But I do not want to get naked in my kitchen. If we are doing this, I want to do it right. “You know what is good about a studio?” I ask between kisses. “The bed is very near.”
“Brilliant,” she pants. “Take me there.” She holds out a hand, as if I might pluck her down. But I pick her up instead. She gives a squeal as I carry her around the kitchen counter toward the back of my flat.
The bed is a big, soft expanse for me to toss her into the center. She laughs, lying back on the quilt, and I run my hands up her thighs, under her dress, as I climb up to join her.
