Page 45 of A Bloom in Winter

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered.

Taking two bad clomps forward on the snow, he reached out and brushed that strand of hair out of her face. As he tucked it behind her ear, the end of it caught the breeze and curled around her lips.

He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth.

“I was just thinking,” he murmured, “that that grain bag really brings out the color of your eyes.”

Her laughter was loud and a little honky, and he found it so frickin’ endearing, he was the one who started walking again. Snowshoeing again? Whatever—he knew he had to get moving or he was going to do something too soon.

“So how long have you been working for the guy who owns this place?” he asked casually.

“All my life,” she muttered. “How about you and Apex?”

He wasn’t a fan of liars, but reminded himself that he was a stranger to her. She didn’t owe him shit about herself.

A stranger for now, at least.

“I’m an independent contractor. I work with Mr. Personality sometimes.”

“I noticed you guys screwed a lot over day.” As Mayhem fumbled his feet, she barked a laugh. “I mean, the cameras. You screwed in the—oh, forget it.”

“We got them all up, but the job’s only halfway done. I’ve got a lot of programming to do before we leave.”

And he was going to take his sweet goddamn time at it. Maybe even have to work through a couple of software “crashes.”

“No more secrets in the big house, huh,” she said as they entered the tree line.

“Nope.”

“Little much for a summer place that’s hardly used, don’t you think.”

“Those kinds of questions are way above my pay grade.”

With a hop and a grunt, she repositioned the grain bag. “And what do you do when you’re not screwing”—she glanced over with a smile—“incameras.”

“Oh, I’m a pretty simple male. I like long walks on the beach, rom-coms from the nineties, and pink cocktails.”

Her laughter was like a goal line he wanted to get to over and over. And then she looked at him and he found another motivation.

“How about you?” he asked as he stared at her lips.

“I’ve never been to the beach before, I’m not a big fan of pink or alcohol—but I did see a Sandra Bullock movie once and liked it. Does that count?”

“Depends on which movie. I mean they’re ancient now, but there were eras, if you know what I mean.”

“I can’t remember exactly. I think there was a guy in a coma and she falls for the brother—”

“While You Were Sleeping.”

“—who’s a furniture maker?” She smiled again. “Is that the title? And there was the guy who liked her shoes?”

“Joe Junior.”

“That’s the one.”

“And that’s a classic, so yes, it counts.”

They both started laughing, and Mayhem thought back to the last time he’d been with a female who made him feel lighter in his spirit.

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