Page 30 of Rebel Without a Claus
Luke’s grin spreads. “Amen to that.”
Princess Yuletide Sparkles nudges my hand and curls up in my lap with a sigh. Dang. He’s pretty cute… for a slimey little thing.
Luke leans over, giving the baby another little scratch between the ears. “He’s probably not even a flyer.”
“He’sdefinitelya flyer. Don’t besmirch my godson like that.”
“Oh, so now you’re the designated godmother?”
“Damn straight.”
Luke chuckles, quiet but real, and something in my chest stutters.
I think… I think I like this version of him. When I look back up, somehow, Luke feels like he’s sitting even closer to me, our shoulders brushing.
“I’m glad I was here,” I whisper. “Even if it means I smell like a barn.”
He smiles, real and slow. “You did good, Eve.”
We sit there, the space between us crackling.
Then… he leans in just slightly. And so do I.
His lips brush across mine in the gentlest kiss that’s barely there. Soft. Cautious. Exploratory. Like we’re both unsure if this is a terrible idea or the best one we’ve ever had.
And then?—
Another bleat comes from my lap, loud and long, making me jump.
I look down at Princess Yuletide Sparkles laying in my lap as we pull apart, laughing. “Not a fan of romance, Princess?
“Your timing isimpeccable, Sparkles,” Luke mutters.
Princess Yuletide Sparkles stands up and on wobbly legs, he makes his way over to his mother’s udder and begins eating.
“I think that’s our cue to leave.” Luke stands, then takes my hand, helping me to my feet. “Let’s leave them to it.”
Something in my gut lurches as I look back over my shoulder. “Are you sure they’re going to be okay out here alone all night?”
“He’s not alone. He’s got his mama,” Luke says, gently squeezing my hand. “They’ll be okay. I promise. Plus…” He stands up and taps his fingers to a small white square hooked up against the wall of the barn. “I have a couple webcams set up in here so I can keep an eye on the gang.”
He strolls over to me with a smug smirk, offering me his outstretched hand.
Despite the cold temperatures in the barn, warmth washes over me and I let Luke pull me to the door of the barn. He flings it open and we’re immediately met with a blanket of white.
Not just snow… but a wall of thick, unrelenting, blinding whiteout snow. The kind that erases the world and makes even Luke look vaguely worried.
“Wow, that weather system rolled in fast,” he mutters, peeking his head out of the barn.
I yank my phone out of my back pocket and find multiple concerned texts from my mom and dad. I immediately text them back, telling them I’m still at the farm with Luke.
Mom’s response comes back almost instantaneously.
MOM:
Do not drive home! It’s treacherous out! We’ll take care of Cringle.
Normally, I would say she’s being dramatic. But this time, she’s spot on.
