Page 27 of The Christmas You Crash

Her chest rises and falls heavily as she watches me leave the comfort of our stack of blankets and the warmth of her touch. “Right. Thanks. I’m going to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth.” She gives me one last look before fleeing to the bathroom.

I watch her delicious ass sway as she retreats, then berate myself for it.She’s off-limits, idiot. It doesn’t matter if she’s beautiful and driving you crazy. You can’t do anything about it. You need your spot on the team.

After throwing the last few logs we’d brought inside on the fire and carefully stoking it, I shove my feet into Coach’s boots and pull on my coat. My stomach drops when I see how few cut logs we have left. It won’t even be enough to get us fully through the day, let alone another night without power. My attention goes to the door leading outside. It’s still snowing, but it seems the worst of the blizzard is over. Fat, lazy flakes float down from the sky in haphazard trajectories. At least two feet of snow covers the ground, though it might be more.

I’ll have to go out there and cut more wood for us.

My injured hand flexes, as if preparing for the discomfort that will accompany the chore. I’ll have to pad my palm withsome fabric to minimize the impact the blows will have on my wound. Even then, it’s still going to suck.

“Ryder?” Lexi’s soft voice floats through the house.

“In the garage,” I call back.

Her hair is brushed and pulled back into a low ponytail when she peeks her head around the door. Lexi takes in the way I’m running my uninjured hand through my hair and the tight set of my jaw, then asks, “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I tell her. “I’m just psyching myself up for cutting firewood this morning. We’re running low.”

Those beguiling green eyes of hers go wide as she takes in the dwindling pile of cut logs and the snowy outside world. “Crap.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been lazy since getting here. It’s about time I did something close to a workout.”

Lexi narrows her eyes. “You’re injured, Ryder.”

“I’ll make sure most of the impact goes to my left hand.” I try to sound nonchalant, but I’m dreading chopping these stupid logs.

Her full lips purse, then she turns on her heel and heads back inside. “Just wait, okay?” she calls over her shoulder. Amused, I do as she says, and a few minutes later, Lexi strides back into the garage, all decked out in jeans, her boots, her puffy pink coat, a hat, gloves, and a long scarf that’s looped several times around her neck. It makes me feel unprepared for the weather in my jeans, coat, hat, and gloves. “You can help if I need it, but I’ll be chopping the wood this morning.”

My eyebrows have a mind of their own, and they’re inching up my forehead before I can school my expression. Of course, she notices and glares at me.

“I know how to chop wood.” She snatches the axe with a cute little noise that’s probably supposed to be a growl of frustration, but once again, she sounds like a kitten purring.

Grabbing the wheelbarrow, I follow her out into the frigid morning air as we struggle to trudge through the snow to the tarp-covered stack of logs on the side of the house. The snow is taller than my boots, and it’s not long before I’m shivering and glad I pulled my pants down over the boots, rather than tucking them into the top. “What, do you watch that lumberjack guy on social media or something? Is that how you learned to chop wood?”

She makes another annoyed sound as she hefts a large, unsplit log on top of the stump that’s clearly used for this purpose. Her fingers barely wrap around the entire width of the handle, but Lexi doesn’t let that stop her. All of her focus is on the log before her as she lifts the axe, inhales deeply, then lets it swing downward in a perfect arc. The sharp blade embeds deep into the log, but it doesn’t split. I watch, surprised and kind of turned on as she wiggles the axe and dislodges it before swinging it again. A sharpcrackcuts through the silence of the snowy morning as Lexi’s perfect aim brings the blade down on the same spot as before and the log cleaves in two.

“Damn,” I whisper, more to myself than her.

She doesn’t look at me, just repositions the two halves of the log before repeating the motions and quartering them. “The lumberjack guy is hot,” she finally says. “But my dad taught me when I was younger. Then, when I got older, cutting the firewood always fell on me because he couldn’t be bothered to take time off work and come to the cabin with my mom and me.”

Lexi moves to grab another log from the pile, but I beat her to it. When I try to catch her gaze, she avoids meeting my eyes. Clearly, I’ve hit a sore spot. I wish Coach were here so I could shake him. If I were lucky enough to have a daughter like Lexi, I’d drop everything to spend time with her.

“He’s an idiot,” I say before she brings the axe down once again.

The unaffected shrug she gives me in response doesn’t fool me one bit. She may be used to her dad’s absence, but it still stings. “It is what it is. Anyway, that’s how I learned how to do this.” Anothercrackslices through the muted morning. “But I’m not sure I’ll be able to cut as many logs as we need. All the yoga in the world doesn’t really build the muscle groups used for chopping wood.”

“I think you’re stronger than you realize.” I put another unsplit log on the tree stump for her and toss the quartered logs into the wheelbarrow.

“Maybe.”

We slip into a silent dance as Lexi continues to split another six logs, and I continue to stack them for her. By the time she’s done quartering the tenth log, she’s breathing heavily and her arms begin to shake. She goes to lift the axe once more, but I stop her.

“Hey. You’re going to hurt yourself. Let me do a few.”

Green eyes blink up at me. “I can do it.”

Carefully peeling her fingers away from the axe’s handle, I crowd her when her lower lip trembles slightly. Setting the axe down, I do something incredibly stupid. I lift my hands to cup her cold, pink-tinged cheeks. My words are soft and low as I brush a thumb over her quivering lip. “I know you can. But you’re not alone this time.”

A single tear slips down Lexi’s cheek, and I break. Forget that she’s off-limits. That she’s Coach’s daughter. Forget that she could do so much better than me. Dipping my head, I press my lips to hers with desperate need.

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