Chapter 18
JORDAN
When I open the door, Reed’s on the other side, as I suspected.
“Morning, brother,” he says.
“What’s up?”
He smiles. “Something smells good. Did you make breakfast or finally find yourself a woman who can cook?”
Great. Nothing like starting the day with an interrogation.
“I feed myself all the time, Reed.”
He snorts, pushing past me. “Burnt toast doesn’t count. Whatever that smell is, it’s way above your skill level.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Sure, you have. Let me grab one.” He takes a step toward the kitchen.
“No.” I plant myself in front of him. “These are… special muffins.”
“Special how? Are they laced with protein powder? Oh, wait.” His eyes light up. “Are they cannabis infused?”
“They’re for a recipe test.”
Reed laughs so hard, Ginger’s sure to hear it from the spare room. “A recipe test? Who are you, Betty Crocker?”
“Get lost, Reed.”
“Okay, fine.” He moves toward the door and pauses on the threshold. “Save me one.”
“Out,” I bark, slamming the door in his grinning face. I stand there a second, hand on the knob, breathing through the irritation. Reed can sniff out gossip faster than bloodhounds. When I open my eyes, Ginger’s peeking around the corner, laughter trembling on her lips.
“Special muffins?”
“It was the first thing that came to mind,” I admit. “If he’d taken one, he never would’ve left.”
She crosses into the kitchen, still giggling as she removes the muffins from the pan. “Next time I’ll make something less suspicious.”
“Next time, I’m not answering the door.”
She grins and sets the muffins on a platter she found somewhere. The sight of her in my kitchen, barefoot, hair loose, entirely at ease, hits me harder than I expect. It feels like she belongs here.
“Look,” she says, nodding to the table. “I finished my snowman sign while the muffins baked.”
It’s perfect, all bright paint and her careful lettering. “Wow, that came out great. Where will you hang it?”
“At my house. It’s a keepsake from our first date.”
The word “date” does something to me.
We sit down to eat. She takes a bite, eyes lighting up. “I’m starving.”
“Do you eat the top or bottom first?” I ask.
“Depends on the day. Why?”
“Everyone knows the top’s superior. That’s why they sell muffin tops separately.”
She shrugs. “I think it’s all good. Life’s too short to save the best for last.”
“You didn’t follow that rule with me,” I tease. “You could’ve been enjoying me for years.”
She smirks. “I wanted more than a quick bite. And I figured you’d get tired of the same meal.”
I reach across the table, covering her hand. “That’s not happening. I couldn’t get tired of you if I tried.”
Her gaze softens. “I’m crazy about you too.”
Knock. Knock. Knock. We both freeze, just as we did the first time this happened.
I groan. “No fucking way.”
“Open up!” Reed shouts. “We know she’s here!”
Ginger’s eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh no.”
Muttering a curse, I head for the door. The moment I yank it open, chaos spills in with Reed, Drew, Travis, Willow, and Nina, all looking smug.
“Good morning, lovebirds,” Nina sings.
Ginger steps out from the kitchen, hair a mess, mug in hand. “Morning.”
Willow waves her phone. “Guess you forgot you share your location with me.”
Ginger mouths, “Oops.”
“Fantastic,” I mumble.
They start firing questions at us. “Why’d you sleep over?” “What does it mean?” I try to shield Ginger from the worst of it by answering, “She didn’t want to drive home, so she stayed in the guest room.”
Nina eyes Ginger’s pajamas. “And packed those just in case?”
“Exactly,” I lie, too quickly.
Ginger squeezes my arm. “It’s okay,” she tells me.
I lean closer, studying her face. “You sure?”
She nods.
Reed smirks. “So what’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
I straighten. “Not that we owe you an explanation, but yes, Ginger and I are together.”
Willow squints. “You mean dating?”
I shake my head, meeting Ginger’s gaze. “No. We’re in a relationship.”
Willow crosses her arms. “Sex doesn’t equal a relationship.”
Ginger fires back, “We haven’t had sex, Willow. Not that it’s anyone’s business.”
Reed claps my shoulder. “Sucks to be you, man.”
I shove his hand off. “I’m good. Now, if everyone’s done being nosy, get the fuck out. I want to be alone with my girl.”
Eventually, they leave, but it’s not until after enough teasing to last a month. When the door finally shuts, silence falls heavy and sweet. Ginger and I look at each other and then burst out laughing.
“Bunch of nosy fuckers,” I say, pulling her in.
“I’m glad it’s out in the open,” she murmurs against my chest. “No more sneaking around.”
I hold her tighter. “Yeah. Though, I’ll miss the adrenaline rush.”
She grimaces. “Not me. I’m scarred enough after overhearing Reed peeing.”
“Think we should tell him you were there?”
“Absolutely not. He’d never let me live it down.”
I grin. “You’re right. He’d bring it up at Christmas dinner.”
“Exactly.” She places her hand over her heart. “And I’d deny everything.”
“I’d have your back, G.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “You and that nickname.”
“You like it.”
“Maybe.”
We start clearing the table together. Her mug clinks as she places it in the dishwasher.
“I should check on Pops. Make sure he’s behaving.”
I don’t want her to go, but I nod. “I get it. Gramps is the same way when my parents are gone.”
She sighs. “At least they still check in. Mine are off somewhere in Europe, pretending they don’t have responsibilities.”
I frown. “Do you talk to them much?”
“My mom called a couple of months ago and asked about Pops like he was an afterthought.” She shrugs, but I sense the hurt underneath her outward display of indifference.
I reach out, brushing my thumb along her wrist. “They don’t know what they’re missing. And you and Pops are fine without them.”
Her smile wobbles, but it’s real. “Thanks.”
We stand there a moment longer before she goes to my room to change and grab her bag.
“I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow,” I tell her. “I need some gingerbread coffee anyway.”
She sets the bag on the floor and steps closer. “Maybe you should broaden your horizons and try an eggnog latte.”
I shake my head. “That’s not happening.”
She laughs. “Gingerbread it is.”
I lean in and kiss her, meaning for it to be quick. It isn’t. The second she responds, there’s a slow, steady pull I can’t fight. My hand slides up to cradle under her jaw, and she makes a soft sound that goes straight to my heart.
Pulling back from the kiss, I watch her eyes flutter open. I could get used to this—seeing her in my home, kissing her whenever I want.
“I should really go,” she says, making no move to leave.
“Five more minutes?” I ask, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
She bites her lip, considering it. “Pops will be wondering where I am.”
“Tell him you got caught in a snowstorm.” I nod toward the window where fat flakes are starting to drift down.
Her eyes flash wider. “It’s snowing? I didn’t even notice.”
“That’s the effect my kisses have on women.”
She smacks my chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are.” I pull her closer, enjoying how her body feels against mine. “Just five more minutes,” I whisper against her lips.
She melts into me, her resistance fading. “Fine.
Those five minutes turn into fifteen as we stand in my kitchen, trading lazy kisses.
Each one feels like discovering something new about her.
The way she sighs when my hands roam over her back.
She likes to use her teeth to tug gently on my bottom lip.
The way she arches into me like she can’t get close enough.
When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen. The sight makes me want to start all over again and never stop.
Yeah, I’m in deep.
The afternoon drags by. Without Ginger here, I suddenly don’t know what to do with myself. The Patriots game is over, and I’ve already eaten dinner.
Screw it. I grab my phone and type out a text.
Me: Put on your winter gear and meet me outside in five minutes.
I don’t offer any explanation.
Ginger: Okay.
I grin, grab my coat, gloves, and beanie, then head out.
When I arrive at her house, she’s nowhere in sight. Maybe I should’ve given her more time to work with. I step out into the kind of cold that burns your lungs a little, and start packing a snowball while I wait.
Her porch light flicks on, and the door swings open. She steps out bundled in a pink, puffy jacket, a white hat with a ridiculous purple pom-pom on top, and a scarf that’s wrapped around her neck four times. She shuts the door and walks to the edge of the porch.
“You’re late,” I call out, letting the snowball fly. It smacks her right in the shoulder.
Her gasp echoes through the yard. “Did you just throw a snowball at me?”
“Yep.” I’m already crouching to make another.
“You are so dead, Jordan!” She charges down the steps, scooping up snow in her mittened hands as she goes. Her first throw misses by a mile and lands in the street. The second one hits my arm, and she cheers like she’s won a championship.
“Oh, it’s on now, G,” I mutter.
The next few minutes are chaos with snow flying, Ginger squealing, and both of us slipping and sliding as we dodge snowballs while acting like little kids. We’re laughing so hard it’s difficult to throw. She has good aim when she’s not too far away, but I’ve got great aim all the time.
I duck behind a row of boxwoods and pack another snowball, waiting for her to come around the corner. Her boots crunch through the snow as she moves closer. And closer.
“Where’d you go?” she calls out in a teasing tone.
I pop out and nail her square in the chest.
She gasps. “You ambushed me.”
“That’s called strategy, G. Look it up.”
She lunges at me before I can react, tackling me around the waist. My boots slip as I fight for traction, and we go down in a tangle of limbs, our joined laughter spilling into the cold night air.
My back hits first, and she lands on top of me, snow flying up all around us like confetti shot from a cannon.
We go still for a second, breathing hard and grinning like fools. There’s snow clinging to her hair and jacket, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more adorable.
“Truce?” she asks, breathless.
I brush the snow from her cheeks. “Maybe.”
Then I kiss her cold lips until they turn warm, and my dick is fighting to find room in my snow-dampened jeans.
When we part, she smiles down at me. “You cheated, you know.”
“How do you figure?”
“You knew about the snowball fight before I did.”
I grin. “Yeah, but look at all the fun we had.”
“You’re right. This was a blast.”
“Literally,” I point out. “And you must appreciate how I aimed all my snowballs below your head.”
“Isn’t that the polite thing to do?”
“Not in my family. We don’t follow any rules.”
She giggles. “I feel like ‘I don’t follow rules’ could be your life motto.”
“Oh yeah?” I roll her to her back and bury my ice-cold nose between her scarf and neck.
She squeals, kicking snow at me. “Uncle, uncle!”
I raise my head, grinning down at her. Her cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out from under her hat, and I’m pretty sure my heart’s never felt this full.