Page 17 of Christmas in Vines

I wrinkled my nose. “It’s best lightly toasted andal dente.”

“Al dente!” she spluttered, shoving me with her shoulder. “When did you turn into an old Italian MasterChef?”

“I have class, if you should know,” I retorted.

Her eyes glimmered in the dual lights. “You are serious, not gatekeeping my s’mores.”

I reached for the stick. “Let me see—”

She jerked it out of my way. “No.”

“Just lemme—” I reached for it again, and she lurched away.

“No!” She giggled-shouted.

Again, I reached for it. “Just let me show you how my way can be better than—”

“Get away!” she laughed. “Get your own marshmallow, dammit!”

As the stubborn ass I was, I tried to get it again, and when she jerked the stick away—a splat of white goop slid down her stick, and a clump landed on her cheek. Willow froze. It then became acutely apparent of our scandalous positions. She had one hand behind her back, the other up, holding the stick, while I was knelt between her legs, reaching for the stick.

I sat back, and with a chuckle, I gestured toward her cheek. “Uh, you have…”

She huffed and swiped the blob away but left some behind. “You! You’re to blame for this.”

Without hesitation, I reached out and swiped the last of the congealed white blob off her cheek to suck it into my mouth. “Ugh.”

Willow slapped my thigh. “You’re a menace.”

“In the scope of things I’ve been called, that is…” I tilted my head. “…almost a compliment.”

She slid another marshmallow on her stick and handed it over to me. “Do your worst, hotshot.”

As I twisted the white fluff at the edge of the fire, someone shouted, and the tree lit up. My jaw dropped at the sight. The tree was decked in white, red and silver ornaments while the fairy light, all speck of white light, turned the thick boughs into something out of a fairytale. Willow rested her head on my arm, and…something twisted in my chest.

Now, as it sparkled in the bright, ethereal glow, I wondered how it would look after a dusting of snow, and I felt myself even more entranced. Who knew something as simple as a tree draped in lights and colorful baubles could evoke such an emotional response from me?

I tugged the marshmallow away and blew on it, glad it was simply caramelized. Turning to her, I smirked, “Thisis how you do a perfect marshmallow.”

“Shut up, smartass,” she replied. “Just take in the magic.”

Reaching for the platter of graham crackers and chocolate, I made the s’more and handed it to her. She bit into it, and like the devil I was, I ducked my head to bite the other end. Time seemed to slow.

This close, I could see tiny, almost indescribable freckles over her nose, and I wanted to trace my tongue all over them, mapping them out like a constellation.

Pulling away with my mouthful, I swallowed and grinned. “Tell me that doesn’t taste better then goopy marshmallow.”

“You’re a smug ass,” she teased me after swallowing the mouthful.

“I am,” I replied, feeling the crippling urge to kiss her—but I didn’t.

Not here, not now. So, I simply looked at her, channeling all the emotions in my chest into my gaze, and when she met my eyes, I knew what she saw, and felt. All the heat and anticipation spiraled in my gut wrapped up in one.

“Not here,” Willow whispered.

“I know,” I replied while mapping her face with my eyes. “But I want to.”

I wanted so much more than a kiss, but that was too much for her—well, us—right now. We had passed the point of a lustful, one-night-hook-up, but we were nowhere near the relationship point. It was an awkward place in our friendship or relationship or…what did they call it online, a situationship?

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