Page 127 of One Foggy Christmas
“No, I’m by a fire.” Technically, I’m sitting on Nash’s lap, but since I haven’t told my family that I ran into him in Switzerland, it would be hard to explain the lap-sitting.
It’s not that I’m hiding Nash from my family. I just don’t need the added pressure of someone knowing we’re spending time together and asking questions about how it’s going. Focusing on my feelings for him is all I want to do. We’re in our little Switzerland bubble, and that’s how I want it to stay for a bit.
“A fire on the balcony,” my mom gushes. “That’s sounds cozy. I just wish you weren’t alone.”
Nash squeezes my body, hugging me close. “Trust me, I don’t feel alone.”
“Oh, that’s good. What did you do today?”
“Well”—I sit up a little taller—“you’ll be proud to hear that I went skiing.”
My dad cheers in the background, listening in on the call.
“Are you serious?”
I beam at Nash, and he smiles back. “I am serious. I started on the beginner hill and worked my way up to the intermediate.”
“I hope you were careful.”
“I was.”
“And did you wear your helmet?” my dad chimes in.
“Yes, of course.”
“How did you work up the nerve?”
“I had a charming ski instructor. I had to put my best foot forward for him.”
I give Nash a sideways smile, and in return, his hand squeezes the tender part above my knee, which is so ticklish all I can do is jerk my leg out straight to get away. A squeal comes out with my leg jerk, and I quickly cover my mouth with my hand.
“What was that?”
“I thought a bat was flying toward me, but we’re all good.”
Nash’s smile turns wicked, making me think he’s not done interrupting my phone call.
“So where do you go tomorrow?” my dad asks. “You were only two days in Zermatt, right?”
“Tomorrow, I go to Montreux,” I say as Nash kisses my neck. The touch of his warm lips against my skin sends an explosion of chills down my body.
“Is that the one with the Christmas markets and the flying Santa?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I tilt my head, letting Nash’s lips have free rein over the side of my throat. His soft kisses drive me insane with desire. He’s right—I’m a big fan of this.
My, oh my, is it nice.
“Sadie?” The impatience behind my mom’s voice is my first clue that I wasn’t paying attention to her.
“Sorry. What did you ask?”
“How are you getting to Montreux?”
“Train.” I close my eyes as Nash nibbles on the bottom of my ear. His hot breath tickles my skin, and I feel like I just died and went to heaven, or cloud nine, or wherever the best place to be is. That’s where I’m at.
“What are you doing once you get there?”
