Chapter 9 Snowflake #2
Without thinking, I reach across the center console and rest my hand on his. A spark zips up my arm, and I yank my hand away. What the hell was that? A pinched nerve? I flex my fingers before clearing my throat. “You’re here now.”
He doesn’t know how to deal with an emotional eleven-year-old, and I don’t know how to deal with an emotional thirty-six-year-old Logan. He has been through a lot. We’re older. Maybe we can push our differences aside. Even though I’m still going to kick his ass in the festival department.
As I turn into his driveway, snowflakes begin to dance from the sky.
I leave the car running because I plan on tossing Logan through the doorway and leaving.
Maybe not tossing—shoving? Before I reach the passenger side, Logan already has the door open, one boot on the ground.
I loop an arm around his waist as he drapes himself over my shoulders.
I slam the door behind us and guide him toward the sidewalk that leads up to his porch.
Halfway to the short set of stairs, his foot slips on a patch of ice.
With physics doing what physics does, his body slams into mine and much like the trees at Reindeer Ridge, we topple over.
Logan twists, taking the hit so I land on him.
Snow blooms up around us like a slow-motion snow globe.
Logan’s eyes pinch shut as a deep groan rumbles from his chest.
My breath hitches as I scan his face, shoulders, and chest for any signs of injury. “Are you alright?”
“That’s going to leave a bruise.” He groans again.
Resting my hands on his chest, which is annoyingly warm even through layers, I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me. “If it’s any consolation, thanks for taking one for the team.”
His hands bracket my waist. “Why are you being nice to me? Driving me home. Hell, talking to me. I was such a prick to you, wasn’t I? Or ignored you. I’m not really sure. Both are equally shitty.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Apparently, I’m feeling generous today.” Or I’ve lost my mind. “Plus, you took the brunt of a snowbank for me.”
His fingers ghost across my face, brushing away stray hairs. My breath gets caught in my throat. “Snowflake,” he whispers.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of them around us.”
His gaze steadies on me. “No. You. You’re my snowflake.”
I snort. “Someone has had too many drinks tonight.”
“It’s true.”
Okay. I’ll bite. “Is that because I’m one of a kind?” I bat my eyelashes, feigning innocence.
“No. Well, I mean, you are. But you’re a new beginning.” The crinkle in his forehead softens as the air grows heavy between us. “You have the prettiest eyes.”
I bite my lips together, swallowing down the laugh that wants to escape.
“They’re the most captivating brown.”
Unable to hold it back any longer, a chuckle bursts out of me. “Brown eyes are not pretty.”
“Yours are.” His hand slides up my back. “They have little flecks of gold that shine brighter when you smile.”
Well shit. That was kind of sweet. “Are those the types of compliments that get all the girls to swoon?”
“Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I paid a girl a compliment.”
His hand slides from my back to my shoulder.
The tips of his fingers are cold against my cheek.
A shiver skates through me that has nothing to do with the cold.
His gaze flicks to my mouth; his tongue wets his bottom lip.
He lifts his chin, eyes drifting closed.
Oh shit, he’s going to kiss me. His warm breath skates over my lips as he moves a fraction closer.
If I dip my head just a centimeter, my lips will be on his.
I’d be kissing Logan Crawford. My arch enemy. Abort! Abort!
“We should get you inside,” I blurt out.
His head hits the snow, and a cloud forms as he exhales. “Yeah. That’s probably best.”
I scramble up, very careful to avoid any accidental snowbank dry-humping, then offer my hand. He almost takes me down again, but I wrangle him upright. We walk side by side until we reach the few steps leading to the porch.
His gaze drops to his feet as he takes the first step. “You don’t have to walk me to my door.”
“I want to make sure you get inside.”
He doesn’t protest any further. Instead, he grips the railing and climbs the steps until he reaches the door.
He sways back and forth a few times before he fishes his keys out of his pocket.
With the streetlight as his guide, he uses his other hand to select the correct one.
He stabs the lock once, twice, finally, the third time’s the charm.
Visions of Logan trying to have sex right now flood my head, and I stifle a giggle.
I dodged a bullet with the almost-kiss. Then I scold myself for thinking of Logan and sex right now.
Twisting the knob, he pushes the door open and stumbles through the doorway, abandoning his keys.
I stand guard and brace for impact in case he falls over.
Once he’s inside, I grab his keys from the lock and follow him.
He flips on a light switch, and a soft glow fills the expansive entryway as a wisp of pine fills the air.
I’ve spent years imagining what the inside of this house looked like, but it’s even more gorgeous than I thought.
Beautiful exposed beams cover the ceiling to pair perfectly with the rustic wide-plank flooring.
The open floor plan gives the house a spacious ambiance, yet it still feels warm and cozy.
While Logan leans against the wall, he toes off his boots. I do the same. “You can keep yours on.” He points to my feet.
“Your floors look way too nice for my dirty, snowy boots.”
“It’s fine.”
Logan ambles into the living room, and I follow close behind.
He collapses onto a leather sectional and drapes his arm over his face.
I place his keys on the kitchen island, hoping he won’t have issues finding them in the morning.
A colorful blanket is bunched up on a recliner a few feet away.
Grabbing the edge, I unfurl it, exposing a narwhal swimming on a colorful background.
It’s much smaller than I expected, but it’s better than nothing.
I drape it over Logan’s stomach and thighs since that’s all it will cover.
Before leaving, I spare another glance around, without snooping…
too much. It’s actually a really nice place for a single dad.
I stroll into the kitchen, and a half-empty case of water on the counter catches my eye.
He must have some chilled. I open one side of the stainless-steel fridge, and my eyes widen.
Granted, I didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it.
Fruits and vegetables pack the inside. Again, not something I’d expect from a guy, but he’s an athlete and a dad, so he’s trying to remain healthy.
Based on the two times now that my hands have been on him, he’s doing a good job.
I spot bottled water in the bottom drawer, and I grab one.
Back in the living room, Logan’s fully sprawled out on the couch.
His eyes are closed, and he softly breathes in and out.
Leaning down, I place the bottle of water on the end table next to his head.
My gaze wanders over the soft features of his face.
The light brown eyelashes that fan over his cheeks.
The gentle slope of his nose. The light stubble that covers his sculpted jawline.
I like this Logan the best. Mostly because he’s quiet.
“Thanks for the ride,” he mumbles, eyes still closed.
I recoil, my back snapping upright. Guess he’s not sleeping. “Yeah, no problem. Have a good night.”
He lifts his hand in a half-assed wave, saying nothing.
At the door, I slip into my boots and exit.
Inside my SUV, my fingers tight on the wheel, I replay the last ten minutes on a loop: ice, snowbank, almost-kiss I’m eighty-seven percent certain I didn’t want—except for the thirteen percent that absolutely did.
But not tonight. Not like that. But maybe…
he isn’t the villain I assigned him to be.
Maybe—maybe—we could be something resembling friends.
I crank the heat, pull away, and try very hard to think about literally anything besides how close his mouth came to mine.