“Who’s fault is that?” he asks, glancing over at me.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get me started on that mess.”
Nick pulls Savannah closer to keep her warm as we step through the front gate.
“This is sort of exciting,” Savannah says, rubbing her hands together. “I feel like a teenager again.” She’s smiling, a full, beautiful smile that overshadows the dark circles under her eyes. With her parents losing their house and all her trips up north to help them with estate sales and whatnot, I’m not surprised she looks tired.
“I thought it would be a nice change—something fun to keep your mind off of things.” Nick leans over and kisses her mouth.
“Ohh, minty,” she purrs.
“Just for you.” Nick kisses her again, and I feel like an intruder.
We finally stop in front of the arched wooden door, a giant holly wreath with a velvety red bow hanging on the front. Nick doesn’t even bother knocking before he steps inside the house, Savannah and I following him.
Music booms in the entryway, a nasally female voice singing “Santa Baby” with an exaggerated twang and a synthetic keyboard in the background. Pine and cinnamon fills the air and there are twinkling lights draped along the bookshelves and windows when we step into a living room. People, standing and sitting throughout the room, wave in welcome as we walk through, smiling and saying hello. A couple people sit on the garland-wrapped staircase, leading upstairs, and most everyone is dressed in their ugly sweater attire. Surprisingly, underneath the gaudy-themed Christmas decor, the house is spacious and modern, not over the top like I had imagined.
“Let’s take a look around and put these somewhere,” Nick says, lifting the six-pack. He nods toward what I’m assuming is the direction of the kitchen. We head to the right, into a room that opens up into a big steel and granite furnished kitchen the size of my dad’s living room. It opens up to another living space with couches and a wet bar where people cluster, chatting above the music. And in the kitchen itself there are two refrigerators, overflowing with alcohol.
The assortment of labels is overwhelming. “That’s definitely a lot of alcohol—”
“Mac?” I hear a lighthearted, familiar voice—Jason’s voice—from across the room. I forgot he’s playing football at the U now, so of course he would be here. His big smile broadens when I wave, pleasantly surprised to see an acquaintance.
Nick and Savannah start clinking around in the fridge. “See, I told you getting out of the apartment would be good for you,” Nick says and glances in Jason’s direction.
Jason makes his way toward me with a drink in his hand and a smile plastered on his face, and I’m relieved to see someone I know here.
I’m a bundle of nerves. Nick was right: a fun, fabulous Friday night for me is heading to Lick’s after work to hang out with the guys. Here, in this mansion, I’m completely out of my element. I push my uneasiness down as far as it will go. At least Jason’s sweet, easy on the eyes, and will keep me company for a few chats. I put on my welcoming, happy face and pull him in for a hug.
“Good to see you again,” he says in my ear.
Nick nudges my shoulder and I take a step back. “Here.” He hands me a plastic cup and nods toward another hallway I hadn’t even noticed. It’s a signal he’s leaving me to my new friend.
I nod in reassurance. “Have fun. I’ll be . . . around.”
“Nice to see you again,” Jason says over the music. Nick waves and then he and Savannah head out of the room.
“Well,” I say and lift my plastic cup. Jason mirrors me and we clink our drinks together. “Cheers.” We both take a sip. Rum and Coke with a hint of lime. It’s sweeter than whiskey, but I like it.
Jason props himself against the granite island and shakes his head, clearly amused. “So, this makes twice in about a week that I’ve run into you.”
“It must be fate,” I simper and take another drink.
“No kidding. How often do you get down this way?”
I lick my lips. “Um, only when my brother has a hockey game. Or I get invited to random ugly sweater parties, I guess.”
He smirks. “I see. So, it’s just you and Nick tonight? And his girl, of course.”
“He knows Ben,” I say with a nod. “And a guy I work with is Ben’s cousin, apparently.”
Jason’s cocky grin fades a little. “I see. So, that means you’re unattached tonight?” There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice that’s endearing for a guy who could get just about any single girl here he wanted with a flash of his smile and flex of his bicep.
His nervousness is cute, and I allow myself a small, flirty smile. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”
Jason’s confidence reappears in the form of another toothy grin, and he nudges me with his elbow. “Good for me, then.” He winks.
Uncertain if I should flirt back or keep whatever this is between us amicable, I tilt my head, thinking. “Maybe,” I say. “Look, Jason, you’re an awesome beer buddy and I enjoy hanging out with you, but you should know life’s been sort of crazy for me lately, so I’m just trying to have a fun night—nothing crazy,” I add.
Jason considers me a moment, his eyes twinkling in the blinking pastel lights. “Fun, nothing crazy—it sounds like you have yourself a party-date.”
We clink cups again. “Great.” I smile and take a sip of rum and Coke as I scan the room, people-watching and wondering if any of them are our generous hosts.
When I glance up at Jason, he’s staring at me, his smile gone. “You’re something special, Mac. You know that?” He winces almost immediately and takes a swig from his cup. “Jesus, that was totally a pickup line, wasn’t it?”
Yes. I raise my eyebrow in amusement. “Wasn’t it supposed to be?”
Jason shakes his head. “No, believe it or not.”
“Well, thanks for the compliment then. But I think that’s just the beers talking.”
He shakes his head, his embarrassed smile growing. “Nah, I’ve only had three. I’m not even to the halfway point yet.” He winks at me and straightens; even in my heels, I have to look up at him a bit. He’s cute, for sure, but I’m wary. “I wasn’t just saying that to get in your pants, Mac, I promise—as amusing as the idea is.” He winks again, that cocky air about him back in its place.
I can’t help but smile at how similar we are, using smartass comments and humor to deflect whatever’s really going on beneath the surface. His personality is one I can navigate well, and I relax a bit more.
Out of nowhere, a guy comes up and slaps Jason on the shoulder before pulling him in for a bear hug. They laugh and exchange a few words before Jason introduces me to Collin, then he says goodbye.
“Locker room buddy?” I ask as Collin disappears into the crowd again.
Jason nods. “You could say that. He graduated last semester, he’s no longer on the team. I’m sort of like his replacement.”
“Sports. Awesome.”
“But you like hockey,” he says, a little confused.
“Yeah, because I know everything about it. My brother has been playing for quite a few years now. I think this is the first season I haven’t gone to every game.” I lean in closer so I don’t have to yell. “You think I’m feisty now? Wait until you see me at the rink, shouting at the ref.” In all honesty, I’ve only gotten into one altercation with a ref, and that was at a home game where he let a fight go on for too long. The moment I saw blood on Bobby’s jersey, I lost my shit and almost plowed through the barricade. At least I would’ve injured myself trying.
Jason shakes his head and his mouth curves into a small smile. “You’re not what you appear to be, Mac.”
I take a sip of my drink, a dozen sardonic retorts popping to mind. “No?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t laugh at me, okay, but—”
Putting my hand up, I stop him right there. “How about you don’t say it then, because I tend to laugh in awkward situations. The truth is, I’m not good with complim
ents or gushy stuff. I’m not drunk enough for that yet.”
Jason laughs, a deep rumble, and his brow draws together. He’s clearly amused. “You know, you’re sort of intimidating.”
I snort a laugh. “Now that’s not one I’ve heard before, but I take it as a compliment.” I’m not sure if it’s the uncharted territory I’m walking into by standing here, talking to him, or temperature and this itchy sweater, but I push my sleeves up, feeling a little flushed.
“It’s true and you should.” He eyes me for a moment then points toward the sliding glass door. “Want to get some air? You look a little uncomfortable.”
I think about it a moment, needing a little reprieve from the crowded room, but I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.
“I promise, no funny business,” he says, clearly picking up on my uncertainty. “There’s a few fire pits in the back, if you need some air.”
Hesitantly, I nod. “Sure. Lead the way.”
Jason takes my hand and we push through a crowd of people, all of them polite as they make room for us to pass. “Thank you,” I say, and brush past another stranger who smells of pungent perfume.
Mr. Hot Shot that he is, Jason chats with a few people as we make our way to the sliding door, and I appreciate how easygoing and open he seems to be; surprisingly, he’s a welcome addition to my night out.
“Sorry,” someone else says as I brush past them and I step outside, following Jason onto the porch. It’s cold, the temperature in the thirties, but there are a couple fire pits scattered about with flames roaring as promised and small couches set up around them.
“There’s a spot right over here.” Jason points to an empty love seat beside the farthest fire pit. A couple other people sit around it, chatting and laughing.
I’m about to give Jason a thumbs-up when I spot Colton, walking up from the pool house toward me. My footing falters, but I catch myself on the railing. When his dark eyes meet mine, he stops.
“Hello,” I say with unexpected ease. He’s wearing his leather jacket, black jeans with his hair slicked back, and a straight face, as usual. “No ugly sweater? I guess I’m not really surprised.”
Colton’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “No?”
With barely concealed laughter, I shake my head. “For some reason I can’t picture you in any themed attire. Ever.”
He surprises me with a hint of a smile. “You’d be surprised.” This openness fades when Jason calls my name. “Coming,” I say, but my eyes don’t leave Colton. There’s something different about him tonight, and it’s not his greaseless face and hands. Though it could easily be the change in scenery. “See ya later, I guess.”
Of course he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his eyes on me as I head over to the fire pit.
“Who was that?” Jason asks when I finally sit down on the cushion beside him. “He looks familiar.”
I pull a blanket off the back of the loveseat and tuck it around me before I scoot closer to the fire. “You met him at Lick’s the other night—he’s one of the guys I work with.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember.”
I offer Jason a corner of the blanket.
“No thanks. I’m okay for now.”
“You big man. Not cold,” I grunt out. I scrunch my face in what is probably a very off-putting, ugly expression, but Jason laughs at my awkwardness anyway.
“Yeah, for now.”
I grin, appreciative of how much easier he is to be around than Colton, and lean closer to the flames. Jason leans forward as well, warming his hands against the heat, our arms and shoulders touching. Being next to his warmth and masculinity gives me a twinge of butterflies in my stomach, especially out here in the intimate cold, but it’s not unwanted. Jason exudes strength, yet I don’t feel uneasy around him, which is a welcome discovery and piques my curiosity a little.
“So,” he starts, taking a drink of his beer, “other than work, what do you do for fun? I know you’re not in school anymore and you mentioned you’re not taking photos.”
I stare at the fire a moment, wondering how to answer the question that’s been running through my head most of this week. “Honestly, I feel like I’m not doing much at all. I mean, I’m working, but I’m sort of just wandering right now, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life. It sort of feels like an early midlife crisis,” I admit aloud. “But I don’t want to bore you.” I look at him. “What about you? What are you doing?”
His brow knits together and I realize he’s watching me, intently. “Are you alright?” he asks.
I frown. “Yes. Why?”
He nods to my arm. When I look down I realize I’m itching it again. “You’ve been itching a lot.”
Groaning, I start to realize how uncomfortable I am. “I think I’m allergic to the wool in this sweater. It’s my friend’s, and it’s making me itch like crazy. In fact—” Button by button, I slowly remove myself from the sweater, thankful I wear a camisole under everything. “I don’t care if I’m freezing, I can’t take it anymore.”
Jason smiles and helps me pull the sleeve off. Turning my arm to face the firelight, I notice the red bumps on my skin. “That sucks,” I mutter and lean in to examine them. “It’s not like I’ve never worn wool before. How weird.”
“I can see if Ben has some sort of anti-itch cream if you want. That might help.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say and pull the blanket tighter around me to keep warm. My hair covers what’s left of the exposed skin of my neck and shoulders. “But thank you. I think I’ll be fine now that I took the sweater off, as long as I have the blanket.”
Jason lifts his arm, offering his warmth, and without much hesitation I nestle a little closer to him. He closes his arm around me and we lean further back into the cushion. His body is on fire, so hot I could fall asleep in his warmth. “It must be a guy thing,” I say. “The heat. My brother is always hot, so is my dad.”
He nods, and I feel my hair cling to the new scruff on his chin. “You’re probably right. My sister is always cold. She steals my sweatshirts all the time. It’s kind of annoying, actually.”
“Ha. Sounds like something I would do.” I let out a content breath and listen to the steady beat of his heart as he methodically rubs my shoulders to help me keep warm. “Thank you,” I whisper. It actually feels really nice, though I don’t tell him that. “Maybe I should just toss the sweater in the fire. I mean, it is ugly.”
Jason laughs, a rumbling sound I can hear reverberating deep inside his chest. “I’m not sure your friend will appreciate that, ugly or not.”
We mostly sit in silence, observing. The music rumbles from inside, but not in an obnoxious sort of way. It’s more like white noise during our comfortable silences. At one point, Nick and Savannah come outside for a bit and continue out toward the pool house, but Jason and I just stay where we are, sitting together amicably and chatting about his football career, math, which he hates, and his sister, who is going to her first prom this year.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sister,” I think aloud. “Way easier, do you think, or harder than two brothers?”
Jason’s hold tightens around me and he chuckles quietly. “Hands down, guys are way easier.”
“For you,” I say, sitting up. “You’re a guy.”
“True,” he says with a shrug and he takes in my expression. His irises are green and bright with fire. There’s a moment of hesitation—contemplation—and the spooling warmth and nervousness I suddenly feel tells me he’s deciding whether or not to kiss me. Surprisingly, I find myself wondering what his kiss would taste like.
Then, he leans in. “I’m gonna kiss you, Mac,” he whispers. My hold on the blanket loosens as I take in his voice. It’s soft and almost asking, and my peaking eagerness tells me this is something I want to explore—his lips, his warmth. He’s not threatening or pushy.
Gently, Jason cups his hand around the back of my head, guiding my mouth toward his. His kiss i
s soft, and I can taste the beer on his tongue mixed with the scent of his cologne. Nothing overpowering, just male. His hand lowers to my shoulder, and the instant I feel his thumb brush against the scar on my shoulder blade, everything changes.
I shiver as the dark memory I’ve tried and failed to bury resurfaces. The distant feeling of firm, resolved hands around my waist and the cringe-inducing imprint of Sean’s breath against my neck taints the moment. I try to push the unnerving sensations away, deep down into a box of it’s all in the past, but it doesn’t stay there.
I pull Jason’s hand off me and lean away from him. “Jason,” I rasp. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
His eyes are unfocused and it takes him a moment to comprehend what I’m saying. His eyes narrow on mine, then his eyebrows raise, almost pleading. “Am I that bad of a kisser?” He asks, trying to play the sting of the moment off.
I shake my head. “No, not at all. I just—I’m not good with this sort of thing.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Really? I beg to differ.” When I don’t smile, he sobers. “Sorry, apparently I say stupid things around you.”
Offering him a weak smile, I think the worst of it is over, but then he leans into me again, his eyes roving over my face. “Just give me one more chance,” he says, and his lips are on mine again. I push him away this time. “Jason . . .” I tug his hand down from cupping the side of my face, and I sit up.
His brow furrows and he stares at me with wounded pride. “What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice rougher than I’ve heard before. I curse myself for letting it go this far, for trying to live in the moment. I lean away from him, the cushion preventing me from shrinking away any further. He watches me, eyes narrowing at my reaction.
“I think I’m—”
Thirteen
Colton
Mac’s shaking her head and her impatient friend is glaring at her.
“I think I’m—”
“Clearly uncomfortable,” I say, stepping up behind her, both of them too involved to notice my approach. I knew I didn’t trust this guy for a reason, and her body language tells me all I needed it to.
Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Page 42
