Page 17 of The Christmas You Crash

“But your hand…”

“Is fine.” I flex it against her back. As we stare into each other’s eyes for a beat, it’s like the world takes a deep breath. There’s a moment of utter silence where Lexi’s attention drops to my lips. Her pink tongue flicks out and wets hers. I don’t think she’s even conscious of the movement. When she meets my gaze again, her cheeks flush a deep pink, and she wiggles in my hold.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” She pushes off my chest and stumbles to her feet. Losing her warmth knocks the breath from my chest, and I rub my sternum. She tracks the movement before giving me her back. “We should load this up. It’s freezing out here.”

She grabs an armful of firewood. They make a hollowclangwhen she drops them onto the rusted metal of the wheelbarrow. Normally, the sound would reverberate through the trees. But not in this weather. The snow and wind swallow the noise completely.

I wonder if it would swallow her moans if I pushed her up against the wall of the cabin and fucked her with my fingers?

Not going to happen, I remind myself. She’s off-limits. And she wouldn’t want me, even if she wasn’t.

This is going to be the longest week of my life.

nine

LEXI

The wind is howling.

I was prepared for some snow on this trip, but the weather has quickly taken a far more serious turn than originally forecasted. As annoyed as I am at Ryder’s presence, part of me is relieved not to be alone in this. I’d be panicking if I was by myself.

After hauling a wheelbarrow full of logs into the garage, Ryder and I slipped into a mutual silence. To call it comfortable would oversell it, but it’s also not painfully awkward. Still, there’s a tension between us. We can’t seem to shake it ever since Ryder saved me from falling on my ass in the snow. The last thing I want to do is evaluate said tension, so I’m sticking with a tried-and-true method of disassociation.

Reading.

I’m halfway through my spicy book (and trying not to blush when the characters get frisky), while Ryder flips through his third sports magazine of the afternoon. Pine logs crackle away in the fireplace, and the occasional bit of sap snaps loudly as it burns. The late-afternoon sun is low in the sky, not that we cansee it. We’ve officially moved past a simple snowstorm and into blizzard territory.

A loud ringtone blaring through the otherwise silent room has me nearly jumping out of my skin. Ryder gives me a sheepish look.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize that was set so high. Guess I’m used to being around a bunch of loud guys.” He digs under the blanket he’s wrapped himself in to free the phone. His face blanches when he sees the name on the screen.

“What?” I ask, suddenly nervous. Which makes no sense. I don’t care who’s calling Ryder. It’s none of my business. “Do you need me to go into the other room?”

Ryder’s jaw flexes as he turns the phone around so I can see the name on the screen. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… Well, it’s…”

My dad. The wordCoachflashes across the display, and my body goes through a wild array of responses. My stomach drops, my cheeks heat, and my chest twists painfully. Why is my dad calling Ryder?

“Well, answer it,” I whisper, as though my father can hear me.

“Are you sure? You didn’t tell him about being stuck here together, right?”

“God, no,” I hiss. “And you’d better not, either.”

“Shit. Right.” Ryder answers, then presses thespeakerbutton, so I can hear the conversation. Every muscle in my body tenses. “Hello? Coach?”

“Ryder, how’re you doing, son?”

Son?What the fuck?

My dad’s voice is warm and colored with familiarity. “I saw the weather report and wanted to check on you. We’re getting dumped on here in the city, but when the meteorologist said the words blizzard and Two Harbors in the same sentence, I got worried.”

When my teeth grind together, Ryder notices, his brow creasing. No doubt he’s confused by my visceral reaction to my father’s voice, but I can’t help it. When was the last time my dad felt this level of concern for me? Hell, when’s the last time he picked up the phone to call me just to check in? Arthur Cross only calls me when he feels obligated to do so. The twisting sensation in my chest worsens.

Keep your shit together, Lexi.

Ryder rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, his attention still on me. “Oh, uh, yeah. It’s coming down pretty hard up here. The visibility is next to nothing.”

“Do you have everything you need to make it through?”

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