Page 85 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
“In years to come, I don’t want to look out the back window and see a hole in the landscape.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got a whole forest back here.”
“I want to go a bit deeper into the woods.”
“Listen, Shortcake, I’m not Lewis and Clark.”
Shelly paused. “What did you call me?”
“Shortcake. It fits.”
“How’s that?”
His gaze roamed over her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her full mouth. It took every ounce of control, but she managed not to moisten her lips. A tingling sensation attacked her stomach, and she lowered her gaze. The hesitation lasted no longer than a heartbeat.
His breath hissed through his teeth before he asked, “How about this tree?” He pointed to a small fir that barely reached his waist.
She couldn’t keep from laughing. “It should be illegal to cut down anything that small.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“That tree over there.” She marched ahead, pointing out a seven-foot pine.
“You’re being ridiculous. We wouldn’t be able to get that one through the front door.”
“Of course we’d need to trim it.”
“Like in half,” he mocked.
She refused to be dissuaded. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“Forget it. This tree would be a nice compromise.” He indicated another small tree that was only slightly bigger than the first one he’d chosen.
Without hesitating, she reached down and packed a thick ball of snow. “I’m not willing to compromise my beliefs.”
He turned to her, exasperation written all over his features, and she let him have it with the snowball. The accuracy of her toss astonished her, and she cried out with a mixture of surprise and delight when the snowball slammed against his chest, spraying snow in his face.
His reaction was so speedy that she had no time to run before he was only inches away. “Slade, I’m sorry,” she said, taking a giant step backward. “I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to hit you. Actually, I was aiming at that bush behind you. Honest.”
For every step she retreated, he advanced, packing a snowball between his gloved hands.
“Slade, you wouldn’t,” she implored him, arms wide in surrender.
“Yes, I would.”
“No!” she cried, and turned, running for all she was worth. He overtook her almost immediately, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face him. She stumbled, and they went crashing together to the snow-covered ground.
His heavy body pressed her deeper into the snow. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently, fear and concern evident in the tone of his voice as he tenderly pushed the hair from her face.
“Yes,” she murmured, breathless. But her lack of air couldn’t be attributed to the fall. Having Slade this close, his warm breath fanning her face, was responsible for that. Even through their thick coats she could feel the pounding rhythm of his heart echoing hers.
“Shelly.” He ground out her name like a man driven to the brink of insanity. Slowly he slanted his mouth over hers, claiming her lips in a kiss that rocked the very core of her being. In seconds they were both panting and nearly breathless.
Her arms locked around his neck, and she arched against him, wanting the kiss to go on and on.
