Chapter 15
GINGER
When I pull up in front of Travis’ house, my nerves have already kicked in, which is ridiculous since the partygoers are all people I know and love.
The lawn is decorated with a row of lighted reindeer with a red sleigh behind them.
The inflatable Santa seated inside leans to the right, looking as if one hard gust of wind will blow him right out of there.
Golden lights are strung along the porch, and two small potted Christmas trees flank the front door.
I check my reflection in the rearview mirror for the tenth time.
I curled my hair and even took the time to put on more makeup than usual.
I grin, making sure my lipstick hasn’t drifted from my lips to my teeth.
My red sweater hugs my chest a little tighter than I’d planned, and my jeans are definitely too tight.
Guess I’ll have to be content with a liquid diet this evening.
My toes are crammed into boots with heels—high fucking heels that are a gamble when I’m sober, never mind when alcohol is involved.
If there’s ice on the driveway, I’m screwed.
I blow out a breath and mutter, “You’re fine. It’s just a party.”
Except it’s not just a party because Jordan’s inside. And I haven’t been able to think straight since that universe-altering kiss we shared last night.
Grabbing the box of baked goods I brought, I step out into the cold. My wool coat is no match for the frigid temperature as I walk up the driveway, but I make it onto the porch without faceplanting.
Nina opens the door before I can knock, and beams at me. “Look who finally decided to show up.” She pulls me into a hug, and I catch the scent of her expensive perfume. When she draws back, she looks me up and down. “Damn, Ginger. You look incredible.”
I smile. “Thank you. So do you.” She’s the picture of elegance in black pants and a cashmere sweater. “I made some treats.” I hand over the box.
“Ooh, thank you. I should hide these away for tomorrow.”
“I tucked a gingerbread muffin in there for your breakfast,” I tell her, removing my coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door. I hear a wolf whistle behind me, and spin around to find Willow walking toward us.
“Look at you in skin-tight jeans and heels. You’re one sexy bitch.”
I laugh, cheeks warming. “I was aiming for festive but comfortable. I think I hit on the first, but the second isn’t going to happen. I can barely breathe in these.” I tug at the snug waistband on the denim.
“I think if you change the word from ‘comfortable’ to ‘lethal,’ then you’ll have landed on both,” Nina says, grabbing my hand and tugging me from the entryway.
Travis’ home is glowing with electric Christmas candles, and the fire crackling in the living room makes it feel warm and cozy. Mr. and Mrs. Thorne are perched on the couch, chatting with Pops and Gramps.
I say hello to them and thank Mrs. Thorne for having Pops over for dinner and bringing him here.
“You make me sound like a suitcase they’ve been carting around,” Pops complains.
“Well, you have the brain of one,” Gramps says, smirking.
I leave the two of them to their squabbling, and walk over to the corner. I stare up at the tree decorated in red, white, and blue. “This has you written all over it,” I tell Nina.
“Thanks. I did the decorating but Travis chose the colors.”
I nod approvingly. “Nice—very patriotic.”
She snorts. “He wanted the Patriots’ colors.”
I laugh and point to the flying Elvis logo ornament hanging from one of the top branches. “Oh, yeah. I should’ve known.”
“You need a drink,” Willow says, tugging on my arm.
We move into the kitchen, and I see the four Thorne cousins standing near the island with Travis, Reed, and Drew, laughing over beers.
I don’t know the cousins as well because they’re all older than me and were already out of high school by the time I started.
But one of them used to play professional hockey and now coaches Havenport’s high school team.
And then there’s Jordan. He’s half listening to whatever Travis is saying. He raises the bottle to his lips, taking a deep pull. At the same time, his gaze lands on me, and he chokes on the beer, going into a coughing fit. Reed repeatedly whacks him on the back until he stops.
Jordan’s attention remains on me through it all, and after he composes himself, he gives me a hungry once-over.
Then his expression relaxes into something more friend-like, but he looks so hot in the black button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, I have to glance away before my knees give out.
If that happens, I’ll melt right into the hardwood.
“Here,” Nina says, handing me a glass of sangria just in the nick of time.
I swallow down a mouthful, and hum. “Boy, you’ve really classed up our get-togethers.”
Willow nods. “She has.”
“I’m willing to bet money Travis didn’t know what sangria is,” I say.
Laughter pours from Nina’s red lips. “You’d win that bet.”
“Ha! I knew it.” I glance over at Jordan, finding his brown eyes on me once more, making me flush.
“Are you okay?” Nina asks, pulling my attention back to her. “Your cheeks are getting red.”
“It’s the sangria.”
“You only had one sip,” Willow points out.
I shrug. “You know I’m a lightweight when I drink, and it’s warm in here.” I fan my face. “This sweater may have been a bad choice.” Or maybe looking at Jordan was.
Willow shakes her head. “No, it’s a great choice. Your boobs look fantastic.”
Nina and I laugh.
The next couple of hours unfold in a blur filled with drinking, not so much eating, singing along to Christmas music, and laughing so much my stomach hurts.
I mingle, compliment Nina on the food choices, listen to Pops tell a story I’ve heard at least twenty times—without mentioning that fact—and tease Drew about his ugly Christmas sweater.
Because of Jordan’s proximity, my senses are on high alert, making it difficult to completely relax.
Whenever he looks at me, I feel a telltale prickle of awareness, and when our eyes meet, a spark zings between us.
It doesn’t help that every chance he gets, he brushes his hand over my back or presses his arm into mine.
Just little touches that make my pulse spike.
And here he comes now. He walks toward me, conjuring up images in my mind of a large, prowling jungle cat looking to satisfy his appetite.
He stops beside me. “Having fun?”
“I am. It’s a great party.” I turn my head enough to see his grin.
“You’ve been laughing pretty hard at Reed’s jokes.”
I roll my eyes. “Those were pity laughs.”
“Yeah, I figured. He’s not that funny.” He winks and walks away, leaving me alone with my rapidly beating heart.
The rest of the night plays out in a similar way, with us stealing moments between conversations with others.
But there’s also a brush of our fingers when we both reach for a napkin.
A quiet “you look beautiful” whispered in passing when no one’s close enough to hear.
Though brief, each interaction leaves me feeling overheated and off-balance.
Before it gets too late, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne get ready to leave, along with the two grandfathers. I walk them to the door. “Thank you for dropping Pops off for me.”
“No worries, dear,” Mrs. Thorne replies. She leans in for a hug. “We’ll make sure he gets inside safely.”
“Thank you.” I rise on my toes to kiss Pops’ cheek. “Behave.”
Gramps leans over. “I like kisses too.”
I laugh and press my lips to his wrinkled cheek.
Once they’re all safely in the Thornes’ vehicle, I close the door and start back toward the kitchen. Jordan meets me on my way.
“Come here.”
“Where?”
He tilts his head toward the hallway, eyes glinting with something that makes my blood rush.
Against my better judgment and every ounce of logic I can summon, I follow him. He stops at the bathroom, pushing me inside before I can speak.
“Jordan!” I whisper-shout at him as he closes the door and locks us in.
He turns around, his gaze trailing from my head to my toes and up again in a long, lust-filled caress. “I’ve been dying to kiss you all night.”
My breath catches. “Jordan…”
He steps closer. “You walk in here looking like that and I’m supposed to carry on like nothing’s changed? You’re lucky I lasted this long.”
I’m still grappling with a reply when his hands grip my waist and his mouth closes over mine in a whisper-soft kiss.
He slowly explores my lips, mapping out their shape, as if he’s memorizing every detail.
My hands find his shoulders and slide up the back of his neck, pulling him closer as our tongues dance together.
He tastes like beer, chocolate, and himself, a sinful combination I’ll never get enough of.
“You’re killing me in those heels,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I wasn’t going to wear them.”
“I’m glad you did. Even if they might be the death of me.” His thumb brushes along my jaw, then down my throat, slow and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I whisper.
His hands cup my face—
Knock. Knock.
“Occupied,” Jordan calls out.
“Dude, I need to piss.”
Fuck, it’s Reed.
“Jordan,” I hiss.
He grins at my obvious panic. “He’ll go away.”
The doorknob rattles. “Come on, man. It’ll take me like thirty seconds.”
Jordan mouths, “Hide.”
My eyes bulge, and I mouth back, “Where?”
His eyes flick to the shower.
I shake my head. “No way—”
Reed pounds on the door. “Open up!”
“Dammit,” I whisper, darting to the tub and yanking the curtain closed just before the door opens. I clap a hand over my mouth, trying not to let out a nervous laugh. Through the curtain, I see Reed’s shadow as he moves into the room and over to the toilet.
Jordan leans against the sink on the other side of the room. “Good party, huh?”
“Yeah,” Reed agrees. “Did you see Ginger? She looks… different tonight.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Jordan says.
“Like… really different. That red sweater really shows off her—”
“Reed,” Jordan cuts in sharply. “Your dick is out and you’re pissing.”
“So?”
“So, it’s not the time to talk about Ginger.”
“Oh, right.”
I bite my lip, holding in my laughter. A few seconds later the toilet flushes and Reed washes his hands. He opens the door and pauses. “Almost forgot to tell you, Gramps spiked the cider.”
Jordan chuckles. “Thanks for the warning.”
The door clicks shut, and I exhale, sliding the curtain to one side before I step over the edge of the tub.
Jordan’s lips spread in a wide grin. “That was close.”
I swat his arm. “You think? I can’t believe I hid in a tub.”
“It could’ve been so much worse.”
“How do you figure?”
He edges closer, hands finding my waist again. “He could’ve caught us doing this.” He kisses me again, obliterating any thoughts or concerns from my mind.
When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless and weak-kneed. “You’re trouble.”
He smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “You love it.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Sure it is,” he says, leaning in for one more soft kiss before opening the door. He slaps my ass. “Go mingle before we get caught.”
We’re probably being secretive for nothing. Everyone is going to know something’s up when my car is parked in his driveway all night.
I glance at him, heart racing and lips tingling. “To be continued?”
He smirks. “I’m counting on it.”