Page 12 of The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
“All right then.” He grinned. “But I don’t think you want me to be lying on top of you, so we’ll do it sitting, with you in the front in full control.”
He was wrong about her not wanting him on top of her, but it was a thought she shouldn’t be having.
He pulled the sled to the lip of the slope and held it while Frankie seated herself with her feet braced against the steering bar. He sat behind her, bringing his long legs up on either side of her and bending them so his knees nearly reached her shoulders. It was like having a railing made of denim-covered muscle.
“I’m going to give us a shove so brace yourself,” he said, his voice coming from beside her right ear so the warmth of his breath feathered over her skin.
The sled slid back a few inches before jerking forward with a powerful lurch and hurtling down the slope. Liam leaned into her, so his chest was solid against her back and his arms were wrapped around her waist. But she had no time to enjoy the feel of him enveloping her, as the wind brought tears to her eyes and scoured her cheeks with cold.
The tree trunks and fellow sledders came up fast so she had to focus on weaving among them, the tree trunks more easily than the sledders because they didn’t suddenly veer in unexpected directions. But the speed! The speed was delicious, and the risk made her blood fizz with exhilaration.
The hay bales came at them, and Liam threw himself sideways, taking her with him. For a moment, she lay on top of him, laughing. “Again!” she cried.
“As often as you want.”
While they slogged up the hill with the sled, Frankie felt something in her open up, like a door allowing a sliver of light into a dark room. She reached for Liam’s gloved hand. “Thank you for bringing me.”
His fingers curled around hers as though he held a precious artifact. “You’re the reason I came.”
Half a dozen downward plunges later, Liam was lying under her and steering along the edge of the slope when a pair of teenaged boys, who were headed back up the hill, stepped out in front of them. Liam cursed a blue streak as he tried to wrench the sled away from the kids. Suddenly, the boys separated and lifted their sled up over their heads, making an arch for Liam and Frankie to pass under. As their sled whooshed through the opening, Liam gave them a piece of his mind in Gaelic. The boys cheered and Frankie laughed.
When they toppled off the sled at the bottom of the slope, Liam was still muttering about stupid, feckless teenagers.
“Come on, those kids gave us the perfect finish,” Frankie said. “A triumphal arch.” She looked up the hill but couldn’t find the daring pair in the crowd.
“Are you saying you’re done?”
“It seems the right note to end on. That and the fact that my fingers are going numb.”
“Let’s get you into the heat of the limo.” As they walked up the hill, he called the driver, so the car was waiting when they arrived at the crest.
Liam wrestled the sled back into the car, making Frankie chuckle as she bent to get in too. “I can’t get used to a sled in a limo,” she said.
“Wait until you see it with your Christmas tree tied on the top.” He took one of her hands and peeled the glove off. “Yup, your fingers are red with cold. Give me your other hand too.” He sandwiched her hands between his big palms, sharing the warmth of his skin with her. It felt strangely safe to have her hands trapped in his.
“I don’t have any decorations for a tree.”
“That’s easy to fix.”
She pulled her hands out from his. “When I need Christmas cheer I just go downstairs.”
“Remember what happened to Scrooge.”
“I give everyone who works for me a Christmas turkey.”
He laughed, his cold-reddened cheeks creasing. “What’s the ceiling height on your elevator? About seven feet?”
“I don’t need a tree that big.”
“You could put a twenty-foot tree in that apartment of yours.”
“And it would take a small army with ladders to hang ornaments on it.”
He slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Did you have fun sledding?”
“You’re now going to use specious logic on me. Since I enjoyed the sledding, I will enjoy the Christmas tree.”
“And there you have it.” He pulled her against his side. “Give it up, Frankie. You know I’m as fiercely stubborn as you are.”
She laughed because she couldn’t deny it. Of course, their biggest arguments had always been about her walking home late after work at the chocolatier. Liam had insisted that she needed an escort, and she’d told him she was a grown woman and could take care of herself.
And she could, until the night her boss had agreed to let her develop her own line of chocolates. She’d floated through the gray, dimly lit streets, her mind on flavors and shapes and textures. Pure joy had flowed through her, the kind that made you forget everything but the moment. The kind that made anything seem possible. The kind she was feeling right now, with Liam’s strong arm around her.
But that was the night she’d nearly been raped. If Liam hadn’t come to her rescue, God knows if she’d even still be alive.
In the years since, she’d allowed herself to feel triumph or satisfaction or gratification, but never again that kind of blind happiness. It made you stupid and vulnerable, and she couldn’t afford either.
