by Sierra Hill
“Whoa there.” His chuckle vibrated through his torso, her own bundled up body feeling it down to her toes. “Where in the world are you off to in such a hurry?”
Sloane gave him an incredulous look at his question. She wanted to spit out, “Why do you care?” but chose to hold her tongue.
Dylan remained blocking her path, as he placed his phone in his back pocket, casually adjusting the Patriots beanie on his head. “I just tried calling you. Apparently you couldn’t hear it through all this material.”
He let out a hearty laugh, reaching up his hand to ruffle the fuzzy scarf that was wrapped around most of her face. Dylan bent over slightly, tilting his head to scan her face. “That is you in there, isn’t it, Sloane? It’s kind of hard to tell with you looking like an Eskimo.”
Dylan’s finger nudged her chin up to peek at Sloane’s face, which was lowered in embarrassment, her cheeks an inferno underneath the six-hundred layers of clothing. She batted his arm away. So much for not caring what she looked like because now she felt self-conscious. She probably looked ridiculous and now he called her out on it.
“Yes, it’s me, you dummy. You do know I’m from California, right? It’s the freaking arctic here. I don’t know how you New Englander’s stand it.” She wrapped her arms around her torso and shivered to prove her point.
Feeling the weight of his concentrated stare, she looked up to find his dark hazel eyes shining with mirth.
“Shut it. Not another word from you, Dylan.” Sloane tried to brush past him with a haughty grunt, but to no avail. Spinning around, she looked back up, seeing that mischievous grin still painted across his face. Jerk. “What are you doing here, by the way?”
Dylan shrugged his shoulder playfully, making a zipping gesture across his lips. She slugged him in his bicep. His very solid, ripped-as-shit bicep.
Sloane let out a deep sigh of frustration. She wasn’t certain if the frustration was from his unexpected appearance, or just with herself, because she liked the fact that he was here. Acting goofy. Making fun of her. Keeping her company. Taking away her loneliness.
“Fine, you can speak. Just don’t make any more bully remarks about my winterized fashion sense. I’m very sensitive.” She pouted her lips to emphasize the point.
Dylan crossed his heart and nodded his head, gently grabbing her elbow to assist her down the icy sidewalk. Stopping to look in both directions at the intersection, he turned and gave her an inquisitive look.
“I’m here to pick you up for Christmas dinner, silly woman. Did you forget about my invitation already?”
Dylan gave her a little hip nudge before he escorting her across the ice-paved street, as she nodded her head in the direction of the city park.
Moving her feet cautiously, she gingerly skate-walked next to him, holding on for dear life. “Um, I kind of figured the invitation was revoked after…you know…” she barely squeaked out, her voice soft and tremulous. “And then, well, you didn’t show up yesterday, sending Bear Paws in your place. So I just assumed you didn’t want to see me again.”
His laugh was thunderous. “Bear Paws?”
She waved him off and then gave him her version of Jazz hands. “Yeah, you know – Kenny. Bear Paws. Biggest, hairiest hands I’ve ever seen on a man.”
Dylan bent at the hips, doubled over from laughing so hard. “Holy shit, that is funnier than hell. I can’t wait to tell him you called him that.”
Sloane stopped on the sidewalk, yanking her elbow from his grip and smacked his arm forcefully. What was it that had her laying hands on this man every other minute? He just made her so…gah! He tested her patience – he was so annoying.
“Oh my God, no! You can’t tell him I called him that. That would be so embarrassing.”
“Maybe for you, but not him. He’d think it was hilarious, too. And now that you mention it, he really does have unusually large hands. I’ve known the guy since high school and never even gave it a second thought. I think it’s what made him such a great football player. But now every time I look at him, I’m gonna think about your nickname for him.”
He closed his eyes, slapping his thighs, his shoulders continuing to jiggle in a fit of laughter. “Bear Paws. Good one…”
They made their way to the park and she stood frozen, now uncertain what the plan was once she got here. Standing in the middle of a snow-covered playground, Sloane walked toward the swing set, brushing off the seat so she could sit, immediately jumping up once her butt hit the cold, damp cover.
“Cold?” he asked, moving behind her as she readjusted her rump, gripping the icy-metal chains in her mitten-covered hands. She nodded her head in agreement, pumping her legs with fervor to gain momentum.
Dylan began pushing her backside, Sloane noticing how careful he was being to avoid touching her ass. But she had a sneaky suspicion he was admiring it from behind. That thought alone brought on a wide grin.
“Merry Christmas, by the way,” he whispered in her ear as he drew her backwards to him, before pushing her forward again. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression when I didn’t show up yesterday, but Jason and I were called out on another urgent project. But I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I sent Kenny to take care of things for you.”
Well, crap. Now she felt like an idiot. “Oh, of course. Thank you so much. I had power back on within an hour after he arrived. Although, it was a tad cold that morning before he showed up. I’m glad my uncle had one of those propane fireplaces installed in his apartment. It came in handy.”
“Ah shit, I’m such a thoughtless prick. Fuck, I should have invited you home with me…” He stopped midsentence, realizing his mistake.
Sloane peered up at him behind her lashes. “It’s all good, Dylan. It all worked out. As you can see, I didn’t freeze to death. But I appreciate your concern.”
After their heated kiss and his sudden departure, she had lain awake for hours that night, wishing his warm body was in her bed with her, heating her in every way imaginable. Although she didn’t miss Blaine in the slightest, she did miss having someone to cuddle up to at night. Especially on long, cold winter nights when the temp was below freezing. But she’d also thought a lot about what he said and realized Dylan was right. She really wasn’t the fling kind of girl and it would be awkward if he was around every day doing the renovations. Her brain realized it was for the best, even though her ego was still a bit bruised.
“So I told my dad about you, and he sent me to pick you up. Declining our invitation is not an option. You don’t want to seem like a rude West Coaster, do you?”
Sloane stopped pumping and jumped off the swing, landing on her hands and knees with a soft thud, snow flying around her. Flopping over on her back, she laid down in wet snow, flinging out her arms and legs in a windmill motion.
“I’ve never made snow angels before. This is so much fun!” All worries left her in that moment. The freedom of the moment gave her a thrill so great, she felt tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
She was so excited, she’d shut her eyes in delight, blocking out everything around her. She was so lost in herself, that she didn’t see or hear Dylan milling about until impact.
Snow pelted her face in a taunting mix of wet and cold, startling out a scream from her throat. Sitting up in shock, Sloane sputtered incoherently, shouting out obscenities at Dylan, ranging from mild, to cocksucker and devil spawn. When she finally cleared the snow from her eyes, ears and mouth, she opened them to find him doubled over in laughter.
Without thought to the consequences, she lunged, capturing his legs between her arms, and sending him toppling backwards into a large snowbank. Quickly, so as not to lose the advantage, Sloane scooped up a mound of snow and shoved it smack in his face. Two can play at this game.
In an instant, she found herself flat on her back, Dylan’s hands pinning her wrists above her head. She squirmed and squealed to no avail. There was no doubt in her mind that her chance at retaliation was long gone, leaving Dyla
n to exact his revenge in any manner in which he deemed fit.
“I can’t believe you nailed me with a snowball,” she wailed, trying to wriggle herself free from his grip. “You’re so mean! That’s such a juvenile thing to do. What are you, like twelve?”
His mouth quirked up in a boyish grin. “And I can’t believe you sacked me. What are you, like a defensive linebacker?”
Giggling, she bit her bottom lip and turned her head to the side, trying to hide her smile. “You deserved it.”
“Oh I did, did I? Well, maybe you deserve this...”
And before she could ask what this was, he grabbed another handful of snow and shoved it in her face, smearing the wet slush in every facial orifice available, and even down the neck of her jacket.
She screamed and kicked, trying to twist her way free, but his grip remained strong. She breathed hard with exertion, while he seemed to be calmly enjoying his playtime. That pissed her off even further.
“Oh my God, that is such unsportsmanlike conduct. You’re just plain mean. And rude. And oh -”
She couldn’t finish what she was going to say because his lips suddenly crashed into hers, his tongue immediately plundering her open mouth. He tasted like mint mouthwash and caramel macchiato. The snow that had covered her face was now melting from the burning intensity of their kiss.
Sloane shifted underneath his very warm body and felt the delicious weight of him against her leg, as she tried to press herself closer. Dylan’s hand swept underneath her thick layers of clothing in search of skin. When he found it, he groaned and she shivered on contact. Not from the cold, but from his heat. His warmth created a flood of sensation to cascade through her body, lava erupting down the mountainside, as his calloused fingers drew circles along her belly. She felt, and heard, his sharp intake of breath when he fingered the small belly charm she wore. One of her wild, hair-brained ideas when she was in college. But she liked her belly piercing, even though Blaine always made her feel like a fool for getting pierced.
His lips left hers, leaving her pouting slightly. She gasped as he moved down her jawline, nipping the gooseflesh of her neck and sucking at the hollow juncture of her collarbone. Sloane’s hips lifted automatically – instinctively – to meld with his hardness. Despite the frigid temp, her body burned, the desire fanning the flames, fueling the fire.
When his mouth returned to hers, he caught her bottom lip in between his teeth, sucking the plump flesh until it tingled. She let out a soft moan, shocking herself with the sounds of her own wanton desire.
She was barely cognizant of the sounds of children’s laughter and carols being sung, growing louder from the distance, reminding them both simultaneously that they were in a public park on Christmas day. Dylan pulled his mouth from hers, pressing his forehead against hers, as he slowly dragged his hand out from under her jacket. He pushed himself up to his knees and sat back on his heels, grabbing Sloane by her hands and pulling her up with him.
Standing on wobbly legs, dazed and confused, Sloane watched with fascination as Dylan brushed off excess snow from her legs, turning her to get the back of her coat.
“Sorry I got you a little wet,” he snickered, his eyes meeting her gaze as he pushed himself upright.
How did he know she was that turned on?
She let out a nervous laugh, his expression growing serious and stoic.
“You kissed me again,” she said, a question imbedded in a statement.
Dylan pursed his lips, the ones that had just been on hers, and let out a sigh. “Yeah, I did. And I suppose I should apologize for being so contrary, considering what I told you the other night. But I’m not sorry. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.” His voice trailed off, making her wonder if his thoughts about her were as naughty as hers.
Dylan’s ungloved hand came up to brush the wet strands of her hair, peeking out from her hat, out of her face. He rubbed his thumb pad over her bottom lip, her tongue slipping out on its own accord to taste him. Dylan’s eyes closed, causing the slush to drip off his wet lashes. He seemed lost in the sensation. Or maybe he just had to steel himself against his thoughts.
“I know it would be so fucking good…” - he pointed to the space between them – “if it happened between us. But that doesn’t mean it should.”
She nodded in understanding. “What you said the other night, Dylan...you’re right. If we became involved, even briefly, it could complicate things. And there’s also the fact that I won’t be in Boston long. I plan to leave as soon as I can get things wrapped up here.”
She fidgeted with the zipper of her coat, looking anywhere but at him. “And, as you guessed, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. I just got out of a long-term relationship that ended badly…very badly…and I’m still dealing with the aftermath. So yeah, it’s really not a good time for me. Even though I really like you.”
As if by mutual agreement, they began walking away from the park and back toward the bar, the snow crunching heavily underneath their boots, the sound of slush sloshing under the tires of the cars that passed by. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as cold as she’d expected to be. Perhaps that had to do with the heavy articles of clothing she wore, but more than likely, it was from the heavy make-out session and conversation they embarked upon.
Whatever it was, she looked forward to freeing herself from the confines of her wet, outerwear, and taking a long hot shower when she got back to the apartment. Unlocking the front door, she stepped in, with Dylan following close behind.
He was the first to break the silence that had descended between them since leaving the park. “Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of snow, how about you go get ready for your first taste of the Hemmons’ family Christmas dinner.” He wiggled his eyebrows, patting her genially on her behind, as she took the stairs two at a time, removing the wet layers, one at a time until she reached the top.
“Fine, I’ll go,” she capitulated, turning to give him a wistful look. “And even though we are in agreement that it won’t go further, I want you to know I’m really glad you asked me to spend the holiday with you.”
Dylan had just reached the top, hesitantly stepping closer to her. She pulled him in by his arms, as if she were about to give him a hug. Just as she had him where she wanted him, she dropped the chunk of icy snow she’d hidden in the palm of her hand down his exposed back. He jumped back in surprise, uttering a loud curse.
She wasn’t about to wait around for any retribution, so when he tried to reach out and grab her back, she screamed, running into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. His shouts of laughter from behind the closed door filled her heart with happiness.
Yeah. Dylan Hemmons was going to be a very good and much needed distraction.
Chapter Seven
Dylan’s house was a 1900’s three-bedroom Cape Cod, nestled in the middle of a quiet neighborhood in South Dorchester. He’d purchased it after he’d been honorably discharged from the Corps and decided he’d someday need a home in which to raise a family. Whenever that would be.
He’d never thought that almost two years later nothing much had changed on the marital or familial fronts, but the house was still perfect for the life he enjoyed living. Surrounded by eclectic and diverse neighbors, with local eateries and bars on every corner, his house was also just down the street from Walsh Park. Day or night, he could always count on the excited shouts and sounds of kids playing street hockey or basketball.
The street was also a wonder to see during the holidays, with nearly every home decorated with lights and over-the-top Christmas displays. In fact, each year the neighborhood held an annual holiday decoration competition, in which neighbors and local holiday light enthusiasts could cast their votes for the best-decorated and most creative light displays. Being the electrician and novice artist that he was, Dylan had a knack for winning in one category or another every year. This year, his theme was a military one, representing each of the four branches, with names of fallen s
oldiers from their neighborhood honored in a light display.
It made him thankful every single day that he returned home safe and sound after his deployment. And it was the least he could do to remember the fallen brothers who laid down their lives for their country.
It was nearly four p.m. when Dylan pulled up to his driveway, the sunlight close to vanishing into the west horizon, as he turned off the ignition.
“Well, here we are. Casa de Hemmons.”
He peered over at Sloane, who looked a bit uncomfortable now that she was there. His hand instinctively reached for hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Come on in. I’ll introduce you to my pops.”
Although he’d shoveled the drive and walk to the house earlier that morning, the snow had continued falling throughout the day, with at least another inch accumulating across the pathway. As he got out, he spoke over the hood of his truck. “Wait there. I’ll come around to help you. It’s pretty slick.”
Rounding the front of his Ford F-150, he caught the astonished look adorning Sloane’s face. It only magnified her beauty.
“Oh my God, Dylan. Did you decorate the house all on your own? It’s absolutely incredible!”
A rush of pride flooded his heart, his ego boosted at least triple the normal size. Grabbing her gloved hand and placing his other around her thin waist, Dylan guided her up to his front door. Stopping on the front stoop, he turned back to look at his front lawn, which was tastefully decorated with glowing snowmen, reindeer sleighs, and a giant inflatable chimney with Santa’s feet peeking out from the fireplace.
The exterior of his house was covered with a multitude of lights, along with every tree, shrub and bush in the yard, with the side of his house illuminated in the names of his service men and a large peace sign and flag.
