Page 9 of Snow One Like You

“Yeah?” He asks, though he’s nodding and grabbing his cell as if to book the tickets now. I should stop him, right?

Right?

So why don’t I?

Maybe there’s more of my parents’ impulsiveness in me than I’m willing, or ready, to admit. Either way, a trip to Sin City with the man that’s making me rethink my whole stance on the validity of love at first sight has me ready to pack my bags. Wonder how many things we could do that would make the nickname for the destination appropriate?

“Mmm.” Apparently, a lot of naughty ones, if the noise that slips past my lips is any indication.

“I’ve wondered what you’d sound like turned on,” he mutters so quietly I doubt I’m supposed to hear it. “Now that I know…” he trails off, but the heat in his gaze as he rakes it over me alludes to where he was going with it.

“Dinner,” I blurt, fully aware if we stay here a second longer he’ll be in my bed. Not that I’m against that outcome. I do, however, want to eat first. I have a feeling once he gets me on my back, and subsequently I get him on his, we won’t come up for air until needs demand it.

Unless we make a picnic basket with non-perishable items. That could sustain us for a bit, letting us stay tangled up in each other. Delaying the return of reality for some time. It’s definitely an idea I’m putting a pin in.

Recognizing we’re in danger of combusting if we don’t get going, Calvin tells me to gather what I need, then we exit my place. I lock up behind me, drop my keys in my purse, uncaring at the moment that I won’t be able to locate them later.

That is a worry for then. Now is all about whether I can keep my hands to myself in public.

As Calvin winks before closing my door and switching to his side of the car, I have my doubts.

**Calvin**

“I always wanted to be a cop,” I tell her during the question and answer period of the evening. “My parents always wanted me to be a doctor. They would’ve settled for anything in the medical field upon learning how far I’d veered from it.”

Her eyes narrow, as if she’s upset on my behalf. “They don’t support you?”

“They do now,” I reassure her, otherwise I fear she might hunt them down and give them the stern talking to her expression is promising. “Once they realized I wasn’t changing my mind, and that I was at peace with my decision, they became my biggest supporters. Other than my sister, Brewster.”

“Older or younger?”

“She’s younger by not quite a year.” Yeah, when I was able to put that equation together…I shudder still thinking about what the slim difference between our ages means.

“And what does she do?”

I smirk, the irony amusing, and say, “Emergency room doctor.”

Snow grins. “I bet they were thrilled,” she guesses correctly.

“They were. Thankfully, it was truly what she wanted to do, so it worked it out for both of us.”

“You’re close, I take it.”

“Very. Do you have any siblings?”

“Unfortunately, no. But I grew up with a lot of kids, so it was almost like I had them.”

“Cousins?” I ask, my brain filling in the blank in the most obvious of ways.

“We weren’t related,” she says, eyes dropping to her plate as if uncomfortable with the turn our conversation has taken.

I want to continue, but not if she isn’t ready to share. Yes, I yearn to know every little detail about her. However, this isn’t an interrogation, so I have no problem backing off. When she wants me to know,ifshe ever wants me to, she’ll have my undivided attention. Until then, I’ll soak in what she does tell me, make my own observations, and enjoy falling for the puzzle that is Snow as I do.

On that note, I softly remind her, “Blood doesn’t always make a family.” Changing the subject, I raise my eyes from my menu to her and inquire, “So, what looks good?”

“Something I won’t find in here,” she states suggestively as she lifts hers. “But I’m leaning toward the eggplant parmesan.”

“That sounds promising,” I agree. “I think I’ll get the same.”

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