Page 36 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

I almost jump back, letting go of her smooth chin and rubbing my own bearded one instead.

“I’m sorry, Natalie. Sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry.” I take a step toward the trees. “I’ll get on with the paint?—”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she says, grabbing a fistful of my jacket and pulling me down as she rises on her tiptoes so her lips can meet mine.

All my life has been about intimidating my opponents. About never showing even the slightest glimpse of vulnerability. Yet this woman who’s a fraction of my size has taken me on, taken charge of me. And suddenly, Christmas doesn’t seem quite so bad after all.

CHAPTER 12

NATALIE

His beard is a lot softer than I expected. And the lips hiding under it are delicious—sweet with a hint of coffee.

What kind of madness came over me, grabbing him like that? I’ve never grabbed a man and slapped my mouth on his in my entire life. Never wanted to. Never even considered it.

But, good God, Gabe Woods is kissing me back.

Was that not what I expected when I snatched a fistful of his jacket and yanked him toward me? Was that not what I wanted?

His mouth is warm and firm. And there’s a tiny tremor in it as it presses against mine, as though he’s not really sure he should be doing this.

But he steps in closer, his movement more certain, as he slides a hand around my waist and rests it on the small of my back. The other cups my face, like he was on the verge of doing a moment ago before he retreated and apologized.

I clasp his forearm and inhale the scent of his skin. It’s the same aroma he left on my phone that first night, a bit orangey, with maybe some cloves. He kind of smells like Christmas.

The touch of his hands as well as his lips sends my belly rolling over and over on itself. My legs feel like they might collapse under me, and my underwear is definitely damp. Like, immediately with the first brush of a whisker against my chin,damp.

How did he get me so riled up and push me so far that my brain exploded and I thought jumping on him was a completely fine thing to do?

It certainlyfeelsmore than fine.

Our lips part at the same time. And he angles his head as his tongue?—

The sound of the double doors crashing open at the top of the aisle sends us jumping off each other like someone just poked us with the overly pointy swords a parent lent us for Robin Hood four years ago—I had to replace them with cardboard ones.

“I’ve lost a glove,” Grayson shouts, trudging toward us. “Mom says I have to find it. Have you seen a blue glove, Miss Bourne?” Then he registers Gabe is here. “Oh, hi, Mr. Woods.”

Mr.Wood, more like. Gabe pulls his jacket over his crotch.

“Could it have fallen out of your pocket at the pond yesterday?” Gabe asks, drawing a hand down his beard like he’s straightening it out.

Is he trying to get rid of Grayson so we can get right back to it?

“Let’s look for it.” I clap my hands together with purpose, trying to pull myself back from whatever alternatereality I just sank into. “There’s a limit to the number of places you’ve been.”

Gabe and I head for opposite sides of the room as a Grand Canyon of awkwardness opens up down the center aisle.

“Where did you have it last?” I ask Grayson.

“Mom’s already said that a hundred times.” He sinks down in a chair on the front row. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Grayson’s parents are not exactly well-off. His mom is the breakfast cook at the Springs B&B, and his dad was laid off from the tire shop a few months ago and has been doing odd jobs while he looks for full-time work.

After about five minutes of searching, which feels more like five hours when you’re doing it in silence with an unexpected kiss sitting like a giant elephant in the Canyon of Awkwardness between us, I run out of places to look.

“Well, Gray.” I flop into the seat next to him. “I can’t think of anywhere else to check. Can you?”

He shrugs and plays with his one remaining glove in his lap.

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