Page 25 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

“There she is.” He chuckles.

That’s my girl.

That’s what he’d usually say. But I’m not his girl, and he can’t claim to know me that way anymore.

Trevor sidles up to me and pours the last bits of eggnog into my glass.

“Thank you.” I spread the icing over the cookie.

“Can I help or…”

“Sure, we can see who makes the better-looking snowflake.”

“Ah, well, I’m going for blue, then.” Trevor reaches for the bowl.

We focus on the cookies, music pouring out from the speaker. An old classic carol, slow and waltz-like. Romantic.

Why do Christmas songs have to beromantic?

Trevor starts humming along.

“You’re humming.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I chuckle.

He never realizes he’s doing it, so when I point it out he gets embarrassed. “It’s fine, you can keep humming.”

I’ve missed it.

Trevor starts to hum along again.

I scoop up some dripping icing from the side of my snowflake with my thumb and lick it off. “Yeah, this is looking perf–”

Right as I’m about to compliment my own work, Trevor globs some blue icing onto the middle of my snowflake.

I gape at him. “Did you just–”

“No,” he says with an innocent twirl of his eyes before focusing back on his cookie.

I try to tamp down my smile.

There’s an ease between us. A playfulness. Feels like a memory.

I scoop up some pink icing to fling it over toward his cookie. But Trevor catches my wrist.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Fair is fair!”

We play tug of war, laughing as I try and attack his cookie with the pink icing, and he defends his territory.

“There’s nothing fair in cookie decorating!” Trevor grunts.

I manage to swipe my spoon through the air, icing spraying across the counter, flying up in the air, and right into Trevor’s face.

“Oops!”

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