Page 31 of Snow Harm, No Foul

My chest puffs up. “Good. I should be the only one sayin’ that shit to you.”

“Only if it’s the truth, Niko.”

“Angel, I just came in my fuckin’ pants.”

A long, tense pause. Ivy releases my hair and brings her hand to her mouth. “What?”

“I loved licking your cunt so much I came when I squeezed my dick. Never in my entire fuckin’ life have I done that.”

“That’s . . . that’s—wow. I’m flattered,” she rambles, cheeks fire engine red.

I chuckle, unable to help myself, and her attention snaps back to me. Wonder lines her eyes, and I freeze.

“What’s that look for?”

She smiles so wide she might as well be the only guiding light in a dark cave. “You laughed.”

“I’ve laughed before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Then I’m an even bigger idiot than I thought. If chuckling makes her look at me like she is right now . . . then I’d be stupid not to do it again.

As many times as I can get away with.

9

IVY

“So,I couldn’t help but notice the lack of Christmas decorations around here,” I poke.

Niko carries on behind the bar, pouring a mixture of liquids into a blender. I hear crinkling wrappers before seeing him start to plop red and white candies on top of the ice.

We’re still the only people in the bar, but he doesn’t look concerned about the lack of business. I’m more curious than worried. I didn’t know that a bit of snow and wind kept people locked up in their homes around here. Back home, short of a blackout snowstorm, everyone’s up for a drink with a friend.

“I wanted you to help me with ’em,” he answers bluntly.

My heart warms. “You have some hidden away somewhere, then?”

Darting his eyes up from his concoction, he snaps the lid on the blender. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the Scrooge comments. Who told you I was a grumpy fucker who hates Christmas?”

“No one told me that, exactly. Just that you were a bit . . .Scroogey, per se. But I’m going to guess and say that you’ve been pretty closed off with everyone. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“Exactly. So, you can’t be grouchy about it.”

Instead of replying, he keeps his eyes on me and starts the blender. I laugh at his obvious attempt to cut the conversation and lean my elbow on the bar, gazing at him with an ease that I feel deep in my chest.

Gosh, is it ever easy with him. Even with the heaviness of our earlier conversation and the daunting aspects of our future, I’m settled. More content than I’ve been in years.

I expected to be terrified of what’s to come, but despite my lingering nerves, that’s not the case. Maybe that’s why we’re always told to wait for the right person. From where I’m sitting right now, Niko looks likethe one.

When the blender abruptly stops, he’s pouring the red slush into an identical cup to the one he had for me earlier. I lean forward on the bar stool and try to remember if I saw him put any liquor in it this time.

“It’s a mocktail, Ivy,” he says, settling my curiosity. “Still need you to try the drink before the party.”

“You didn’t have to make me another drink. Gosh, I already know it tastes amazing.”

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