Page 7 of First Kissmas

When our cars finally reach the retirement space, we’re both surprised to find two hours have passed. As we pack up the game pieces, our hands brush reaching for the same tiny car. I freeze, electricity shooting through me at the contact. Ryder’s fingers linger against mine for a heartbeat too long, and suddenly I’m intensely aware of how close we’re sitting, how his knee brushes mine under the table.

I stand up abruptly. “I bet Mrs. Miller could use help with those cookies she mentioned.”

Something flickers across Ryder’s face, but he just nods. “Sure. I’ll meet you back in our room later.”

I head for the kitchen, where I find Mrs. Miller pulling a tray of sugar cookies from the oven. The warm, sweet scent fills the air, reminding me of childhood Christmases. If she notices my flushed cheeks or shaky hands, she’s kind enough not to mention it.

“Perfect timing,” she says. “These need to cool before they’re frosted. Mind giving me a hand with the next batch?”

Soon we’re working side by side, Mrs. Miller rolling out dough while I cut shapes with metal cookie cutters shaped like stars and trees.

“You know,” she says after a while, “Ryder’s been coming down this mountain for years now, delivering his work. Never seen him quite like this before.”

Heat creeps into my face. “Like what?”

“Interested.” She gives me a knowing look. “He usually keeps to himself. Polite, but distant. Today’s the most I’ve seen him smile in all the years I’ve known him.”

“Mrs. Miller?—”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not trying to meddle.” She hands me a bowl of frosting. “Just making an observation. These are cool enough to decorate if you’d like to take some up to him.”

I carefully frost each cookie, trying to make them as pretty as possible. Mrs. Miller hums Christmas carols as she works. When I finish, she arranges the cookies on a plate and sends me on my way.

My heart beats faster as I climb the stairs, plate of cookies in hand. When I open our door, Ryder is standing by the window, looking out at the snow. I set the plate on the small table, and he moves closer to take a cookie. For a few minutes, we talk about nothing important—how good they taste, the way the snow has transformed the town outside. All the while, something builds in my chest, an urge to share more of myself with him.

I set down my half-eaten cookie. “I’m going to a small town called Fairhope. I found out about it in a magazine last year. It’s on the coast, small enough to disappear in but big enough to find work.” The words tumble out now that I’ve started. “In the magazine, there was this picture of the harbor at sunset, all these little boats with their lights reflecting on the water. I’ve looked at it so many times, imagining myself there. Building a life where no one knows me or my history.”

“Sounds perfect.” His voice is soft, and he takes a small step closer.

“I wanted you to know. Where I’m heading. Just in case...” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

“In case your brother finds you first?”

I nod, tears pricking at my eyes.

“Hey.” His hand cups my cheek, his palm warm and rough against my skin. “You’re going to make it there. You’re going to have that beautiful life you’re dreaming of.”

I press my face into his touch, letting my eyes fall closed. When I open them again, the tenderness in his expression steals my breath.

The rational part of my brain screams at me to pull away. To remember all the reasons I can’t do this, can’t feel this.

But I’m tired of being afraid. Tired of letting fear make my choices.

I tilt my chin up, heart thundering in my chest. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I watch understanding dawn in his eyes. He hesitates, giving me time to change my mind.

All these years, I’ve hated that I’ve never been kissed, that my brother’s control has kept me from so many normal experiences. But now, looking into Ryder’s eyes, I’m thankful that he’ll be my first.

I give him a small nod.

Ryder leans in, and his lips brush mine, soft and sweet, barely there at first. Then I lean into him, and the kiss deepens. His hand slides into my hair as warmth spreads through me. He kisses me like I’m precious, like I’m something to be cherished, and tears prick at my eyes again. Everything else falls away: mybrother, my fear, my uncertainty about the future. There’s only this moment, Ryder’s gentle hands in my hair, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I deserve this kind of sweetness in my life.

4

RYDER

Her mouth against mine hits me like a shot of pure need straight through my body. All of my muscles go rigid with the effort of holding back, of keeping the kiss soft when everything in me wants to show her exactly what she does to me. My hands stay gentle in her hair even as desire burns hot and feral under my skin.

My self-control nearly snaps when she makes a small sound and reaches out to grip my shirt. Christ. I’ve wanted women before, but never like this—never with this mix of raw hunger and fierce protectiveness that makes my whole body burn with the need to keep her safe.

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