I start to move, but he puts a hand on my ankle. “You’re okay.”
I freeze, my heart in my throat.
During the opening previews, Mom, Dad, and Brandon start arguing over the last movie the main actor played in, and I turn toward Harrison, glad for the dark.
“Thank you for the jewelry box,” I whisper.
He smiles, but he keeps his eyes on the screen. “You’re welcome. You like it?”
I snuggle into my blankets. “Very much.”
After that, we watch the movie in near silence. I’m so wrapped up in every tiny move that Harrison makes, I’m not even sure what it’s about.
Brandon jumps up to turn the lights back on so we can pick out one last movie before we all go to bed. Harrison leans to the side opposite me as the lamp flicks on and rests his elbow on the armrest.
“Lauren,” Mom says. “Can you make popcorn?”
She’s sitting on the couch, texting back and forth with my aunt.
“Sure,” I say, reluctant to lose my seat.
Harrison stands with me. “I’ll help.”
I nod and walk to the arch that separates the living room from the kitchen. “What else do you guys want?”
Harrison pauses with me.
Brandon gets an awful, evil look on his face, and then he motions above us with a jerk of his chin. “You two are standing under the mistletoe.”
Instantly my knees go so weak I have to put my hand on the wall to steady myself. Laughing so they can’t tell how bothered I am, I say, “Please.”
Harrison doesn’t say anything, he only shakes his head, smiles, and walks off to the kitchen like he’s much too mature for something so juvenile.
He doesn’t have to seem so offended by the idea. After all, it’s not a terrible one…
We make popcorn in near silence, and then we gather bowls and sodas in our arms.
“You have all that?” Harrison asks.
I’m about ready to drop everything. “I’m good.”
Somehow I manage to make it back to the living room without making a mess. I disperse the snacks, and then I return to my seat. My dad moved out of his recliner, and he’s now sitting by Mom. I fully expect Harrison to take the recently vacated chair, but he joins me again on the loveseat.
The lights dim, and I pretend to watch another movie.
Once it’s over, it’s well past midnight, and everyone’s yawning.
“I’ll clean this up,” Harrison says to my mom as she starts grabbing bowls. “You guys go on up.”
Grateful, my parents accept Harrison’s offer. Brandon disappears too, but I stay to help.
“Did you have a nice time with your grandparents?” I ask as we move about the living room.
“I did. It was a little weird not spending it with the rest of my family, though.”
We drop things in the sink to tend to tomorrow. I tag behind him as he walks back into the living room, but after a quick inspection, it looks like we already got everything.
“What about you?” he asks. “Did you have a good day?”
It was a better evening.
“It was nice.”
He nods, and then, slowly, his gaze moves up. We’re standing in the archway again, under the mistletoe, completely alone.
My breath catches in my throat, and I don’t dare move.
“It probably wouldn’t be wise to shirk tradition twice in one night,” he says, his eyes dropping back to mine.
I barely shake my head, the only acknowledgment I’m able to make.
With a small, tentative smile, he gently places his hands on my cheeks and leans down. Soft as a whisper, his lips brush against mine.
My world short circuits.
And then it’s over. He pulls back a fraction of an inch, his fingers still brushing over my cheeks. His eyes search mine, a careful, questioning look in his gaze.
I blink at him, my heart in my throat.
“That was a pathetic mistletoe kiss, wasn’t it?” he whispers.
I peep an acknowledgment.
“I think I can do better.”
Before I realize what’s happening, his lips are on mine, and he’s kissing me like he means it. I gasp, startled, and then I kiss him back.
His hands are in my hair, on my back. My fingers run up his chest, clutching his shirt.
He growls something low in his throat, which makes me shiver, and I move in for more.
And then one of us comes to our senses. I don’t know if it was him; I don’t know if it was me. But we rip apart with the same intensity that we came together.
Lips tingling, I stare at him, my mouth slightly ajar. He looks just as disheveled, and he runs a hand through his carefully messy hair.
“Well,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Merry Christmas, Lauren.”
I mean to say, “you too,” but it comes out all mushed together because my voice is still breathy.
He gives the bottom of his shirt a quick tug to straighten it, and then, without another word, he strides through the kitchen and out the back door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
December 26th
“Do you like snowboarding, Lauren?” Grant asks.
“I ski, actually.”
Grant smiles and glances over before he returns his eyes to the winding mountain road. “You look like a skier.”
What is that supposed to mean?
“Winter’s my favorite season,” he continues. “I love fresh powder.”
I love the comfy chairs in the lodge. I even brought a book.
“Does your family go much?” he asks.
The winter landscape passes by, and I keep my eyes on the snow-laden trees. “Brandon likes to snowboard. But it’s not really my parents’ thing.”
Grant gives me a sideways look. Then he says, in an uncharacteristically perceptive way, “Or yours, I’m guessing.”
I shrug. “Riley and Harper love to ski, so I go with them when they ask.”
“You and Riley seem close.”
“We’ve known each other for a long time, and we tell each other just about everything.”
Just about.
I haven’t told her that I had the most amazing kiss of my life last night with the guy she’s crushing on.
But other than that.
To be fair, when she asked if she could have Harrison, I said no. By girl code, she shouldn’t have kept pressing.
Though, I also adamantly denied having feelings for him.
But how was I supposed to know at that point?
The whole thing is a mess.
It’s settled. I’ll just have to keep my lips away from Harrison’s.
Not that it will be an issue. When we met in the kitchen this morning, Harrison didn’t even look at me. We’ve barely made eye contact at all.
Now him, Brandon, Riley, and Harper are all piled in his truck, and I’m in here with Grant.
Last time I glanced back, Riley was sitting shotgun and leaning over to adjust the radio.
We arrive at the ski resort just before they open, and it’s still incredibly cold. I double wrap my knitted scarf, adjust my thermal headband, and step out of Grant’s car.
Harrison pulls up next to us, and the rest of our group piles out. They’re all laughing and happy, and Grant immediately joins them.
Harrison stands to the side, his hands in his pockets. He glances at me the same time I glance at him.
For a moment, we share a look that concedes this is weird. Then he looks off, over the mountain. “It’s cold.”
“Yes, very.”
Hands still in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels. “It looks like it might snow later.”
I nod. “It does.”
“Are you two coming?” Riley calls.
Apparently the group has already moved on toward the lodge. We snap to attention and follow them.
Brandon’s already cozy with Harper, and the two of them walk shoulder to shoulder. Grant laughs at something Riley says, and for a m
oment, I wish the two of them were together.
We buy our lift tickets, and then we go about the arduous task of bundling up—which is just another reason why I don’t like snow.
As we make our way to the lift, I notice the air isn’t quite as cold as it was when we first got here. Brandon and Harper go first, followed by Harrison and Riley. Grant and I take the next one, and we’re on our way up.
The lift is the one good thing about skiing. It’s amazing to watch the crystalline world pass slowly below you. I would be happier if I could bring a camera instead of skis.
We make our way down the slope, and then we go up. Then we do it again. And again. We repeat the same thing for a good two hours.
By the time we stop for lunch, I’m frozen and bored.
“The snow is awesome today, isn’t it?” Grant says as he bites into his cheeseburger.
Riley enthusiastically agrees, and then Brandon jumps into a conversation about skiing trips of winters past. I nibble my club sandwich as I idly listen.
I wonder if it’s too soon to escape to the couches by the fireplace? My book is calling my name.
We finish with lunch, but as the others get ready to go back out, I excuse myself.
“Ah, come on, Lauren,” Riley says, bummed. “Already?”
Feeling guilty, I glance out the picture windows. It’s started to snow.
“I’m cold, Riley,” I say, trying to keep the whine out of my voice.
She sighs. “All right, we’ll catch up with you later.”
Feeling like a student who was just dismissed from the rest of her classes, I give Riley a hug and make a hasty retreat before she changes her mind.
The couches are nearly empty. It’s only one in the afternoon. Most people are still enjoying the slopes. I curl up in an overstuffed chair, open my book, and plan to immerse myself in it until it’s time to go home.
Too soon, Harrison comes to collect me.
“Surely they aren’t ready to leave yet,” I say as I set the book aside.
With a slight limp, he plops into the chair next to me.
“What did you do?” I ask.
Harrison rolls his eyes. “I fell and managed to pull a muscle in my leg.”
“How clumsy of you,” I say, laughing.
He leans his head back and smiles wryly. “Thanks for your concern.”
I pull my legs under me, getting more comfortable. “Sorry. Let me try again. I’m very concerned that you’re so clumsy.”
Harrison shakes his head and makes a sound like a low, single laugh in his throat. “Better.”
Then I feel bad for him. “Do you need something for the pain?”
“Riley already gave me a painkiller.”
Of course she did.
It seems rude to go back to my book, so I begin to browse the Internet on my phone.
“What is that?” Harrison asks, leaning over to get a better look at my screen.
Angling it toward him, I say, “One of my favorite craft blogs. I’m looking for inspiration.”
We end up sitting here, side by side, him in his chair and me in mine, browsing craft and woodworking blogs for hours. There are projects that I love that he hates—usually shiny, pink, sparkly, glittery things. And there are projects he likes that I think are a tad boring.
“Your cutting boards are so much nicer than those,” I say as I scroll down a page.
Harrison murmurs, not really acknowledging my statement but not denying it, either.
“I think it’s the wood,” I continue. “They’re using all one type, right? That’s why it’s all one color?”
“You were paying attention.”
I was hanging on his every word, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Halfway through the afternoon, I leave Harrison and hunt down hot chocolate. As we drink it, I persuade Harrison to tell me more about where he learned his craft.
“My uncle’s a woodworker.” He gently blows on the steaming liquid. “When we moved to Connecticut, I didn’t know anyone, so I would go over to his house after school.”
I think of Harrison at thirteen, the age he was when his family moved, by himself, trying to get used to a new home.
“Is it nice to be back in Montana?” I ask. “Or do you miss Connecticut?”
Harrison rests his arm on the overstuffed side of his chair and sets his chin on it. “In a way, they both feel like home. Your house, in particular, feels that way. It’s in our old neighborhood, and I was there so much.”
“Are you glad to be back? I mean, would you have ever moved here if it weren’t for the position you were offered?”
I’m really asking if there’s a chance he’ll ever leave, but I don’t want to say it outright.
As if reading my mind, he says, “I like it here. I don’t know if I would have moved back, but now that I’m here, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Mimicking him, I rest my chin on my arm. The fire grows brighter as the clouds roll in and the daylight begins to fade. Already, people are starting to pack up for the day.
We’re just finishing our second cup of hot chocolate when Riley and the group find us.
Riley’s practically bouncing up and down. “Lauren, you’re never going to guess!”
Used to Riley’s exuberance, I simply raise an eyebrow and wait.
“Grant’s grandparents have a cabin near here, and they said we can stay the night!”
Everyone looks excited, but I can’t dredge up any enthusiasm.
“I’ll have to ask my parents…”
Riley’s face falls. “They’ll let you, right?”
I glance at Brandon, who only shrugs. “I’m with you, so they might.”
Because my older brother is so mature and responsible.
Mom answers on the second ring. I explain to her what Grant’s family offered, and then I wait.
“I don’t know, Lauren,” Mom says, hesitant. There’s a pause. “Do you want to? You don’t really like snow that much.”
Knowing they can’t hear Mom’s side of the conversation, it’s easier to answer truthfully. “Not really.”
Harrison, still in the chair next to me, shifts. He turns to our group. “My ankle’s killing me. I don’t think I’m up for it tonight.”
“Do you have a way home?” Mom asks. “Do we need to pick you up?”
I turn to Harrison. “You’re headed home? Can I ride with you?”
Riley looks crestfallen, but Grant looks downright torn.
“If you need a ride home,” he says, “I don’t mind taking you.”
But he really wants to stay. I can tell. And if he leaves, the others all have to come home too.
“I don’t mind taking Lauren,” Harrison assures him. He motions to his leg. “She might need to drive.”
Once it’s all settled, I end the phone call.
Grant pulls me to the side. “We don’t have to go. If you can’t come, I’m not sure I want to anyway.”
He does, but it’s sweet for him to say.
“Go, have fun. I’ll be fine, and we can catch up later.”
He glances at Harrison. “You guys never…I mean, you two—”
“Harrison?” My cheeks begin to warm, but I hope he doesn’t notice. “We’ve never dated or anything.”
But we have kissed. Last night. And it was amazing.
Grant smiles. “I like you, Lauren.”
Feeling squirmy, I say, “I like you, too.”
Studying me, he purses his lips as if he doesn’t quite believe me.
Which isn’t fair, because I do like him. I’m just not sure I like him as much as he wants me to.
“Drive safe.”
He pulls me into a hug, which isn’t nearly as pleasant as it could be because we’re separated by his cold, wet coat.
After Grant releases me, Riley jumps in.
“I don’t think he likes me,” she pouts.
“Who?”
Riley sets her hands on her hips. “Who do you think
?”
I give her what I hope looks like a sympathetic smile.
She sighs. “Sorry you have to go home.”
“It’s all right.”
“You’re kind of miserable anyway, right?” She wraps her long, pale braid around her hand.
“I just get cold quickly. Have fun, okay?”
The rest of our group finally breaks away to collect their things.
“Can you walk?” I ask Harrison.
He takes a step and winces. “Yes.”
I roll my eyes and duck under his arm so I can help. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and together we limp for his truck.
“Lucky it’s not a manual,” I say as he digs for his keys. “Or we’d be stuck up here.”
He laughs as he climbs/hops into the passenger side. I start the engine, and then I fiddle with mirrors and the seat.
“You’ve driven a truck though…right?” Harrison sounds just a touch nervous.
“Yes.” I laugh. “I can drive a truck.”
Once we’re on our way down the mountain and the heater is blowing hot air instead of cold, I dare a glance at him.
“Thanks for taking me home.”
He stretches out his leg. “You appear to be taking me home.”
“You know what I mean.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re welcome.”
The tiny white flakes morph into large, wet clusters. Now that the sun has sunk behind the mountains, the road slowly accumulates snow.
I’m familiar with driving in bad weather, but being in an unfamiliar vehicle makes me a little nervous.
Everything is going well until I hit a patch of ice and foolishly step on the brake. The truck begins to slide, and I yelp, trying to get it under control.
Next to me, Harrison jolts upright. “Careful!”
It’s too late. With a bump and several jolts, we end up in a drainage ditch on the side of the road.
I groan and smack my head back on the headrest. “What do we do?”
“Trade me places,” Harrison says. “I’ll see if I can get us out.”
I half crawl, half scoot over the console and then over Harrison’s lap. It’s embarrassing and awkward, and if I wasn’t so freaked out about driving Harrison’s truck in a ditch, I might admit that sitting in his lap isn’t the worst part of the night.
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