Page 23 of Snow Harm, No Foul

It’s a December 22 white-out, according to the weatherman on the radio, and after exchanging a few emails with Niko, I was left with no other choice than to agree to see him today regardless of the weather.

Sure, he offered to come to my place, but if he’d done that . . . justno. First, I don’t trust myself around him enough to welcome him into my home without pouncing like a horny animal, but second, I wanted to check on how the decorating at the bar has come along.

The last time I was there, it was bare and sad. But I’ve given him clear instructions on how everything should be decorated, and I’m ready to see if he followed them.

My stomach rolls as I come to a slick stop at a red light. Of course, there’s more to my visit than just work.

I went to my doctor yesterday and had her confirm that yes, I am indeed pregnant. Three weeks along, to be exact. I’m nauseous from the morning sickness but also the nerves of telling him the news.

Will he be upset? Or tell me that he doesn’t want it? God, I hope not. I don’t know if I could do this on my own.

It was so reckless not using a condom. I’ve always known that birth control isn’t ever one hundred percent effective, and surely, he knows that, too. We acted out of impulse, and now I don’t know what to do.

The light turns green, and I softly press on the gas to avoid spinning my tires and ease through the intersection. It’s too bright out to see the lights hung around town, but the wreaths on every shop door are visible. They’re enough to make me smile a little before I pull into the bar parking lot.

A country rendition of “Jingle Bells” plays through the speakers as I put the car in park and settle a hand on my stomach through my thick jacket.

“I hope you like Christmas, baby. If not, you’ll break your mom’s heart. Not to mention your grandma’s,” I say softly.

Pulling the key from the ignition, I steel my spine and nod once to myself. When I step out, the snow attacks my face. Wind howls through the air, and I gasp at the force of it when it slashes my cheeks.

I pull my fur-lined hood up and jog through the piles of snow in the parking lot to the entrance. Even with my gloves on, the metal door handle is so cold it burns my fingers when I pull it open.

It’s hot inside, and I drop my tense shoulders before patting my jacket clear of snow. I’m nowhere near showing yet, but I wore my baggiest jacket and dress as if that would make any difference at all today.

Footsteps approach when I start shrugging out of my jacket, and I tense automatically, waiting for whoever it is to reach me. The tables closest to me are empty, which isn’t surprising, considering the empty parking lot and the weather outside. It’s not exactly all that safe to be driving on the roads, and it won’t be long before they’re shut down altogether. I’ll have to make sure I’m gone by then.

“I’ll take that,” Niko grunts, appearing from around the tables with his hand already reaching for me.

He grabs my jacket once I go to drape it over my arm and clutches it in a huge hand. When I lift my gaze, I’m immediately trapped beneath the weight and intensity of his hazelnut eyes.

“Hi,” I mutter shyly.

“Hi.”

With a blink, I’m able to free myself of his stare and finally take in the sight of him in front of me. My heart skips a few too many beats when I focus on the green-and-red sweater he’s wearing with his jeans. I wheeze out a breath and pinch my shirt sleeve.

“What are you wearing?”

He has the nerve to stare down at himself as if he doesn’t know why I’m asking him that question and shrugs a bulky shoulder. “A sweater.”

“Why that one?”

“It was a gift, wasn’t it?”

I snap my head back to stare into his eyes again, this time narrowing mine. “Maybe it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s a bit snug, but I made it work.”

“That could have been for Travis.” It explodes out of my mouth before I can reel the words back in. I swallow an apology, even as his face thunders. “I mean, it wasn’t, but it could have been.”

The space between us disappears in a matter of a few seconds. Niko doesn’t hesitate to take my face in his hands and crane my head back before swooping in to kiss me. I shouldn’t let it happen after how we left things weeks ago, but as my eyes close and my stomach fills with flapping wings, I don’t have it in me to pull away again.

It’s a statement, but not for the public. Just for me. It’s a reminder that while he stayed away, he didn’t forget about me or what we’d done together. I smile into the kiss without thinking twice about it, and he deepens it, drawing me closer.

The yarn I used to make his sweater is soft beneath my fingers when I drag my hands around to rest flat on his back. He wasn’t wrong about it being a bit too snug, but the fact he still wore it means more to me than I bet he expected it to.

He smooths his thumb along the edge of my jaw and then pulls out of the kiss to run it over my lip. “Come with me. I’ve already made you a drink.”

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