Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE COLD AIR wrapped around them as they stepped out of the restaurant, snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. Birdie looked up at the sky and said, “I love these kinds of sparkly nights.”
Crew slipped his hand into hers. “Aren’t all snowy nights sparkly?”
“Nope. There are the loud snowy nights, when the clouds are angry and the snow comes down too hard to sparkle, and then there’s the secret snowy nights that sneak in when you’re sleeping and blanket the world in softness.”
Blanket the world in softness? He drew her closer, whispering, “You do that for me,” and then he kissed her, deep and unhurried.
When their lips finally parted, snow clung to her lashes, melting against her flushed cheeks. Her smile was softer, not wild or teasing. Just tender and sure in a way that made his chest feel full.
She squeezed his hand. “Let’s take a walk through the park.”
He glanced at her dress. “You’ll freeze your pretty little ass off in that dress.”
“Good point. A quick trip to the SUV first!” She hurried toward where they’d parked, tugging him with her. When he opened the passenger door, she climbed in and said, “Don’t move.”
She closed the door, and he watched her pull off her boots, climb into the back seat, and shimmy into her jeans.
Then she disappeared from view. A minute later she was climbing through the truck again, wearing the sweater she’d had on earlier.
She tugged on her boots, put on her coat, and hopped back onto the sidewalk. “Ready!”
He laughed. “You are something else.”
“I call it resourceful. Always ready for an adventure.”
She took his hand, and they headed around the corner toward the park. They were about halfway there when the sound of singing and a guitar floated through the air. Birdie pointed to a man sitting on a bench beneath a streetlight at the end of the block, playing guitar.
“Come on!” She hurried toward him, but stopped abruptly in front of a café. “Let’s bring him hot chocolate.”
Her energy was contagious. “Sounds good to me.”
They left the café with hot chocolate and a cookie because nothing goes better with hot chocolate than cookies. Unless you have colored mini marshmallows, of course, which the café did not have. As they neared the man with the guitar, Birdie called out, “Hi!” as if they were old friends.
The older man appeared amused, his kind eyes looking back at them from behind wire-framed glasses. He had rich, dark skin and a graying beard, and he wore a wool coat, a black scarf, and a thick knit hat. “Hello there, young lady.” He nodded at Crew.
“Good evening,” Crew said.
Birdie sat down beside him. “How long have you been out here playing?”
“Forty years,” he said.
“Now, that’s a long night,” she joked. “I’m Birdie, and this is Ragnar.” She flashed an impish smile at Crew.
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Martin.”
“It’s nice to meet you. It’s cold out tonight. We saw you sitting here and thought you might like some hot chocolate and a cookie in case you were hungry. After forty years on this bench, I bet you’re starved.” She handed him the to-go cup and the bag.
“Thank you. That’s awfully kind of you.” He took a sip and set the bag on his guitar case.
“Well, you’re out here serenading anyone who walks by, and we appreciate it,” she said. “Are you from here?”
“No, ma’am. I grew up in Burwell, Nebraska. Came here for work many moons ago,” he said, and took a big drink of the hot chocolate.
“Small world,” Crew said. “That’s where my mother grew up.”
“Did she, now? What’s her name?” Martin asked.
“Margorie Connors,” Crew said.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Martin smiled. “I went to school with a Margorie Connors. She was a spunky one. Where’s she now?”
“She’s living back in Burwell,” Crew said.
“I’ll have to look her up when I go back for the holidays.” Martin took another drink.
Crew was hit with mixed emotions. Maybe talking with someone she used to know would be good for her. “She might not be the same person you remember. Our family’s been through a lot.”
“Haven’t we all?” Martin said. “Life has a way of testing us, pushing us to the brink. Sometimes all it takes is the right memory to bring you back, but finding it can feel like searching for a needle in a haystack.” He finished his hot chocolate and put the empty cup on his guitar case as he told them about his late wife, who he met at a festival right after high school.
She’d grown up just outside of Timber Crest. He said they used to come visit the music store on the corner every Saturday evening.
And they’d sit on that bench and he’d play songs for her. “Now I play to feel closer to her.”
“I love that,” Birdie said a little dreamily. “Do you know ‘Hold My Hand’ by Hootie and the Blowfish?”
“Sure do. Haven’t played it in a while, but I’m happy to give it a try if you’d like to hear it.”
“Thank you!” She threw her arms around him, and he laughed as she hugged him.
Birdie popped up to her feet as he started playing, the familiar melody filling the air. She swayed to the music, singing about love and tenderness, walking on water, and rising above the chaos of life.
Crew leaned against the lamppost, watching her shine.
Snow caught in her hair, her cheeks were pink from the cold, and there wasn’t an ounce of self-consciousness in her sweet voice.
She pointed at him as she sang about finding peace and harmony and having a hand just for him.
He didn’t think it was possible to fall any harder than he was, but when she spun around and looked him up and down, singing about taking a walk together, he didn’t just fall harder.
He jumped off a fucking cliff, free-falling for this incredible woman.
She wiggled her fingers, swinging those sexy hips, urging him to hold her hand. He pushed from the post and took her hand, spinning her under the light. They danced and laughed, and hell if he didn’t sing every word right along with her.
As the song wound down, he held her close, swaying in a slow circle, wondering not for the first time, and surely not for the last, how he’d gotten lucky enough for their stars to align.
When the song ended, Crew thanked Martin, and Birdie gave him another hug.
“Thank you,” she said. “You made a perfect night even more memorable.”
“You two kids made my night memorable, too,” he said. “I’ll see if I can track down your mother over the holidays. Maybe we can reminisce about the good old days.”
Crew hoped they could and that it would help his mother in some way.
He slipped his arm around Birdie’s shoulders as they headed for the park and kissed her temple. “Do you hijack musicians everywhere you go?”
“Only the nice ones.”
When they reached the park, they followed a winding path, and as they passed the illuminated play area, voices echoed across the snow from a hill where a number of people were tobogganing.
Birdie gasped. “We have to do that!”
“We don’t have a toboggan,” Crew pointed out.
“That’s not a problem.” She marched straight up to a man who was standing at the top of the hill with a toboggan at his feet and said, “Excuse me, sir. Is there any chance we could borrow that toboggan for a ride or two? For the sake of romance?”
The guy said, “Have at it for as long as you want. I’m done.”
“Thanks, man,” Crew said, picking up the toboggan.
“Thank you!” Birdie called out.
He slung an arm around her as they went to find a spot of their own. “You are unbelievable.”
“Do you mean that in a good way?” she asked carefully. “Or did I cross the thin line between fun and embarrassing?”
That hint of vulnerability had him pulling her closer. “I mean it in the very best way. I told you you’d never be too much for me, and I meant it.” He dropped the toboggan in the snow and settled into it, tugging her down between his legs.
She wiggled against him and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re like a full-body warmer.”
“Careful, Trouble. Keep wiggling like that and we might melt the snow.” He kissed her cheek. “Hold on tight.”
He launched them down the hill, wrapping his arms around her.
Birdie whooped as they picked up speed, cold air whipping over them.
Crew leaned to the right, sending them over a bump and into the air.
She shrieked with delight, and they landed with a thud, careening toward a snowbank.
They both leaned, cutting through the snow in the other direction.
The toboggan tipped sideways, dumping them into the powder.
They cracked up, hair and clothes covered with snow. Birdie turned in his arms, and he shifted her onto his body in an effort to keep her dry. Her nose was pink, her eyes bright and elated. He brushed snow from her cheeks and was struck by the joy gripping him. His laughter faded.
“What?” she asked, brows knitting again.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just…you.”
She rolled her eyes, but her expression turned a little bashful.
He pressed his lips to hers and couldn’t resist taking the kiss deeper, the cold snow soaking through his clothes.
When they broke apart, she grinned. “Again!”
He started to stand, and she said, “No, Ragnar! The kiss!”
That was all it took for them both to laugh, and kiss, and laugh some more.
When she scrambled up the hill, he chased her, earning squeals and handfuls of snow being tossed at him. They launched themselves down the hill again and again, until the whole night seemed to be laughing with them, the cold biting through their clothes.
Crew pushed himself up, brushing snow from her shoulders and butt as she shivered, her teeth chattering. “We’re done.”
“But—”
“No buts, Trouble. We’re going home, and I’m putting you in the hot tub.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have a hot tub?” She slipped her cold fingers into his. “Lead the way, Ragnar.”
God, this woman.
He pulled her close as they returned the toboggan and headed out of the park.