Page 92 of Mistlefoe
“Are you okay?” I ask as I walk on the ice in my street shoes, trying to reach her as fast as possible.
“Yeah.” Her nose is wrinkled, eyes shut tight as she sits up straight. One of her hands reaches for her butt. “Fortunately, I have really good cushion.”
“You really do. I like your cushion a lot,” I say as I kneel in front of her. “Does it hurt too badly?”
She opens her eyes. “Yeah, it hurts a lot. Maybe you should give it a massage.”
I sit back on my haunches, snorting. “Flirt.”
“You like it.” Sierra reaches for my hand. “Speaking of, wanna start flirting back now instead of later?”
“Is this your way of asking me out on a date, Sierra Fernandez?”
“Yes.” She nods solemnly. “Do you accept?”
“I do. But first, let’s get you back on your feet.” I reach for her.
CHAPTER 32
SIERRA
Maybe I’m being a neanderthal, but there’s nothing sexier than when your boyfriend can lift you up onto your feet without breaking a sweat or even squeezing his jaw tight from the effort.
I squeeze him, all right. Once I’m vertical, I grab onto his arms and cop a nice feel of them. They’re like granite, just like everything of his except for two things.
His eyes and his lips. Those are so very soft as he looks down and smiles at me. I sigh.
Taking advantage of the added height from my skates, I run my hands up his shoulders until I find his neck. “We said today’s date would be nice and chill, so how about we stay just like this for the rest of the day?”
“I’m not wearing my skates,” he says as if that was the most important thing here.
“Is it mandatory? Because I’m all nice and cozy enough right now.”
As response, Conor’s hands press just a little tighter around my waist. My lips part with a tiny gasp of delight. Maybe that’s why he decides to travel his hands a little further—down,towards my erm, cushion. He pulls me right against him as he cops a little feel in return.
“Look at you, wearing waterproof pants,” Conor whispers in my ear and I don’t know why I shiver.
“Ahem.” A raspier voice echoes around us. Conor and I separate enough to turn toward Gramps, who stands by the door to the rink with his arms folded. “I think I’m going home now. That way you two can be naughty or nice together if you want.”
Conor groans. “Gramps, you’re killing me.”
“We’ll be very nice.” I grin, showing all my pearly whites. “Ish.”
Gramps shakes his head. “Conor, be a gentleman to Sierra. And make sure to lock up when you lovebirds leave. Merry Christmas, Sierra.”
This time my smile is for real. “Merry Christmas, Gramps.”
Conor and I are still nice and snug as we watch the old man climb the steps back up, and we keep quiet until we hear the front door open and close.
Slowly, my boyfriend turns back to me and cocks an eyebrow. “So, I take it you and Gramps set this up together?”
“Yes. I wrapped your gifts and he sneaked them into your house. But then he sneaked me in here this morning. Were you surprised?”
“Very.”
I brush imaginary lint off his chest. “But in a good way?”
“In an oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m able to contain this much happiness in my body kind of way.”
