Page 60 of The Kiss Class

Me: I just booked a ticket.

The text bubble blinks with little dots to indicate Cara is replying.

My Dream Girl: I was going to visit the Christmas Market one last time if you want to come over before we have to leave for Eppley.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. Hurrying, I gather all my stuff, including my Elf on the Shelf, for companyand get in my truck. The moment I’m on the road, I take it slow because the plows are struggling with the heavy snow.

By the time I get to Cara’s house, I’ve heard “The Twelve Days of Christmas” twice and have the earworm stuck in my head.

This time, I enter through the side door because the front path is covered in snow.

She rushes up to me and wraps me in a hug as if relieved that I arrived. “Figuring the roads were bad, I didn’t want to call or text while you were driving.”

“They weren’t good.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t hear. The airport grounded all flights until further notice.”

“This is Nebraska. We can handle the weather.”

“The meteorologists are calling this weather event a bomb cyclone. I guess high winds and ice are compounding the situation.”

“So we’re stranded?” I calculate what this will cost me with Badaszek as I pull out my phone, prepared to book every flight available that could get me to Colorado in time for the game. The thing is, Coach doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and being on time means arriving early because there’s a whole lead-up to us hitting the ice.

“I could drive.”

“In that?” Cara points to the window.

“It’ll only take me about nine hours.”

“It took you twice as long to get here, so maybe tack on a bit more time?”

“Good point.”

I drop onto the stool as I book the next three possible options that’ll get me to Denver if the airport opens back up.

“Maybe you’ll get a Christmas miracle,” Cara says.

Our gazes lock and linger. The question that’s been between us remains, but this time it’s answered quickly.

I say, “Perhaps I already did.”

Cara shifts toward me, angling her head and lengthening her neck. Her eyes are soft. Mine drop to her lips. I move in for a peck that stretches much like our looks of longing before drawing back again.

She smiles like a mischievous Elf on the Shelf and then leans in, pressing her lips to mine and we remain that way until I get dizzy and lose all sense of time.

When she breaks the kiss, we exchange smiles so big I’m certain they can be seen from space along with the shrapnel from the fireworks that went off at ground zero. No seriously. If there’s a frozen planet out there, it’s melted along with all the ice on ours, which is a shame because I love hockey, but this girl . . . she means even more.

Cara’s head dips again, and our noses brush. She inhales and I breathe into her neck, making her shiver with a tickle.

Then her lips sweep mine and I capture them. My fingers sink into her hair. Hers grip the back of my neck, and everything dissolves as the kiss deepens.

It’s like we can’t get enough, and we realize maybe we should stop, then second guess that and keep going.

When we part, breathless, Cara asks, “Did that count as Kiss Class #4?”

“No. Didn’t I tell you? You passed with flying colors.”

“Then I’ll take that as extra credit.”

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