Page 39 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“Out you go, sunshine. One giant leap for mankind, and all that.”

Cerys bit back a laugh. “Is that another dig at my boots?”

Jase laughed. “Course not.” Plus, he actually lamented his decision to wear his trainers on Friday, which were as much use as a chocolate fireguard in the snow.

She shook her head. “I’ll go out first with one of the snow shovels and clear a path for you to follow behind me. You can make the path wider.”

There was something quite monotonous yet therapeutic about scooping the snow and watching it curl into the shovel before he hurled it onto the side of the driveway. When they got to the road, the found it to be just as dense as the drive.

Cerys leaned on the snow shovel. “We should widen the path on the way back so it’s wider than the car.”

Jase looked up at the sky. “But what if it snows again?”

“It will all need shovelling whether it falls now or later. Might as well get the driveway clear now so it won’t take as long later.”

An hour later, the task was done. As Jase put the shovel away, he remembered what he’d said to her inside about being a kid, scooping snow off cars in Manchester. He grabbed a mittful from the car roof, squeezed it between his palms, and then threw it at Cerys.

It hit her square on the back of her neck.

“Jase.” She shimmied about, tipping her snow out of her hood. “Ah, it’s going down my neck.”

“Sorry,” he shouted, not sorry in the least.

Cerys bent down, and before he had time to process what she was doing, one snowball whizzed by the side of his head, and the second hit him straight on the jaw.

He grinned as he grabbed more snow. “Let’s fight, Bexter.”

Cerys laughed and ran, scooping snow off an outdoor storage bin as she moved. Jase attempted to run after her but slowed when he realised it was treacherously slippery in his trainers. He was too busy watching his feet so he didn’t notice she’d waited just around the corner of the property, on the steps leading to the rear patio.

He spluttered as she dumped an armful of snow on his head. As he laughed and brushed the snow out of his hair, she attempted to run past him. “Oh, no you don’t.” He reached out and grabbed her bodily.

“Get off me,” she squealed, wiggling as he took her to the side of the drive. He looked at the pile of shovelled snow and made a choice, hurling the two of them into it.

Holding her safely in his arms, he made sure she didn’t hurt herself as they sank into the snow.

“Jase,” she gasped, his name filled with laughter.

Usually, it was being yelled by someone angry—or worse, disappointed. Or being called out by some random chick he fucked after a gig. But hearing his name said with joy did something to his gut that he couldn’t explain.

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and he couldn’t resist pressing a soft kiss to her lips, one so brief it was over before he realised what he’d done. Before he did something equally stupid, like kiss her again, he jumped to his feet and offered her his hand, grateful when she took it.

“Make snow angels with me,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

* * *

“We aren’t doing ‘It’s Not About You’.”

Cerys looked at Jase, who had abruptly started pacing the studio with his hands over his head. Again. “We don’t have to, as long as you tell me why you don’t like singing it.” She’d felt it on the very first run-through and had found herself thinking about it often.

“Not discussing that with you. Not discussing it at all.”

She tried to compare the man glowering at her now to the man whose lips had brushed hers in the snow just two hours ago. The man who’d fallen asleep cuddling her like a human teddy bear. The more time she spent with him, the more she started to put the real pieces of him together.

“So, talk to me about the lyrics, at least. What’s the inspiration behind them?”

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