Page 20 of Say It Isn't Snow
She rolls her eyes and reaches up to pat my head. I duck so it’s easier for her with our height difference and enjoy the attention, no matter how sarcastically doled out.
“Yes, good boy.”
Does she want me to bark? I’ll bark for her.
I miss her touch as soon as it disappears.
I planned to spend my time at the cabin alone, yet I’m glad that expectation went out the window. The blizzard is a blessing in disguise in more ways than one for me. Yeah, it’s given me the perfect way to lay low from sports media. But it also put me together with her.
From the moment I got here—hell, from the moment Holly took a swing at me with her rolling pin—one thing’s become clear to me. This is my second chance to win her back.
I didn’t realize it at twenty when I was so hungry to reach the big leagues in my hockey career. I know better now: Holly is the one who got away.
I screwed things up with her once and allowed her to slip through my fingers. I won’t make that mistake again.
She might hate me now. I don’t blame her. It’s not like we’ve kept in touch. She stopped responding to any of my messages after summer break ended and I returned to campus at Heston U.
As far as I can tell from every mention of her when I’m talking to Layla, and the late nights I’ve missed her so much I visited her social media profiles to see what she’s up to, there’s no one else right now.
My grip strangles my fork at the thought of her falling for anyone else, guy or girl. Layla mentioned Holly had a girlfriend right after college, but they didn’t last. I don’t think there’s been other guys.
Since I entered professional hockey, my life has been dedicated to the game more than ever. Except after achieving the position I strived hard to reach, something was missing…her.
Maybe I was supposed to get dropped from my team. Maybe I was meant to find my way back to Holly to face everything I’ve regretted that held me back in the past.
This is my chance to fix it. To win her back.
No matter what it takes. Because she’s the piece of my life I’ve been missing. The hollow space that I can’t fill without her.
This time I can’t let her walk away again—I won’t.
My attention slips from her to the falling snow outside the window. It’s slowed somewhat, though it’s still coming down at a steady rate. I will it to last long enough to prove to her we should get back together.
Holly makes another stifled moan that steals my entire focus.
She freezes in the middle of licking her fork clean, caught out. Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink as lovely as her cotton candy colored hair.
My hooded gaze locks on her plush lips. Fuck, I want to kiss her.
Need pulls at me, hot and insistent, igniting my arousal.
I want to sweep everything off the island counter so it crashes to the floor and spread her out on it. I need that moan from her again, without restraint.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying what I made for you,” I rasp.
She sputters, dropping her fork with a clatter. “Thanks for cooking. I’m done now. Put the dishes in the sink and I’ll wash them after I shower.”
After the tumble of words, she scampers in a cute shuffle of her slippers to bolt for the stairs. I prop my head with my hand, a slow smile curving my mouth. When I’m done eating, I clean everything up and wash the dishes so she doesn’t have to worry about it.
I can’t do this with obvious plays. It’ll take a damn good deke and some tricky maneuvers to skate my way back into her heart. First I have to warm her up, make her think she’s winning.
And to do that, I’ll make sure I anticipate her needs, whatever they may be.
In the late afternoon, I come in from checking on Greta’s water level. Cell service connected for about five minutes when I happened to check my phone. Holly immediately sent her brother several texts she had drafted in her phone notes. I had long enough to touch base with my family’s group chat and let Jim know where his goose was before my signal dropped.
Holly’s still in the kitchen where she’s spent most of the day with her hair tied up in a bun by a shiny green bow, surrounded by baking ingredients. She’s wearing a pink apron with frosted Christmas tree cakes printed all over it. Two more hang from the hooks on the wall, both with bold colors and patterns. The standing mixer she brought with her matches her hair color.
The sight of her in her element causes my chest to expand with a warm, bright sensation. I rub at my heart after it skips a beat because she looks up at me.
