Page 11 of Snowed In with the Scrooge

CHAPTER6

JACK

“Well, this isn’t very merry.”I peer out the window at the white flurries rapidly piling up on the deck. “The electric company’s not going to be able to make it up the mountain and get the power turned back on before tomorrow, at the earliest.”

“At least we already have dinner.” Ashton motions at her sandwich. “And a nice, cozy fire. We won’t freeze to death.”

“That is the bright side, I suppose. Are you always this optimistic?”

Ashton’s perfectly straight teeth glimmer in the firelight. “Yeah, I guess I am. I much prefer to look for the sparkle in a situation— life’s more fun that way.”

“That’s a— unique way to put it. Not sure that strategy’s all that practical, though…”

She waves her hand through the air. “Pish-posh. Practicality’s boring.”

“Says the person who locked their cell in the rental and has no way back inside.”

“Touché. But if that never happened, we wouldn’t be together right now.” She locks her steel blue gaze on mine and my lower body tightens, my cock rising to the occasion.

Don’t be ridiculous, Pearson. You barely know this woman.

But you want to…

I clear my throat, shoving my hand in my pocket to deflect my situation. “More wine?”

Ashton runs her tongue along her bottom lip and nods. “Yes, please.”

I refresh both of our drinks and gesture toward the couch. “Want to move in front of the fire? To stay warm?”

“Good idea.” She slides off the barstool and we make our way to the couch, my eyes fixated on the dancing reindeer as her hips sway side to side in the dim light.

“So, Jack…” Ashton drops down onto the leather, tucking her legs up beneath her and accepting the wineglass. “What’s your story?”

“What do you mean?” I join her on the couch, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, stalling.

“Where do you live? Do you play sports, have hobbies? A girlfriend? Wife? Ex-wife?”

I half-chuckle, half-groan. “No, no, and no. I live in Denver, alone. And I ski, run, and play tennis when the weather’s good. What about you?”

“I live in Snow Valley with my kids. My brother and his fiancée —my best friend— live nearby, and so do my parents. I’m divorced— been divorced now almost as long as I was married. And I play the piano and like to paint. Although I’m not very good at painting. But it’s a fun outlet.”

“An artist, huh? I’m zero percent artistic— bet you find that hard to believe.”

She giggles, the tinkly lilt of her voice making me hard all over again. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about this woman that has me reassessing my single, grinchy ways.

“I wouldn’t say that, Jack. You have good taste in music. And pizza.” Her eyes shine in the glow of the fire, golden highlights shimmering in her long, tousled hair, and I don’t know what in the actual hell possesses me, but I lean over until our lips almost touch. Her breath soft on my face, she smells like peppermint and Christmas, and I want this woman more than anything I’ve wanted in a long time.

“I have great taste in pizza,” I murmur, my thumb tracing the smooth skin of her cheek. She inhales and I close the remaining distance between us, pressing my lips gently to hers. Our bodies melt together as we taste each other for the first time, timid at first, then bolder.

Something tells me nothing about Ashton stays timid for long…

Her hands wrap behind my neck, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer to her. She opens her mouth to me and I sweep my tongue in, pressure and desire building between us. My heart pounds wildly as I struggle to maintain control, every muscle taut, tense.

I should be freaking out right now —this goes way beyond the boundaries of my typical MO— but this thing between us feels right. Maybe it’s the storm, maybe it’s all the glittery holiday cheer. I have no idea, but every part of me wants this woman.

Right here, right now.

Wrapping my hands around her back, I grip her waist, run my palm over the cotton of the sweatshirt I lent her. Inwardly cursing myself for not giving her a thin T-shirt instead.

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