With another groan, they all turn and start trudging back to the car.
“Not you.” I catch Margot’s wrist. “Let’s check the house before they blow in. Make sure everything’s okay inside. I know Mrs. Griffith was here for a quick check last week, but you never know.”
“Like just checking or checking for trouble?” She frowns.
“The house, duchess. It’s always good to have peace of mind.” I tap the end of her pink nose. “I’m not worried. Worst thing waiting for us in there is the cold. The cameras are still working.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Her shoulders loosen. “And yes, it’ll befreezing. I bought a bunch of heating pads and blankets for a reason. Let’s get a fire going, though.”
Hand in hand, we move, and I’m glad we’re ahead of my little tornadoes.
That ice on the porch needs salt. Margot skids on a slick patch from the eaves overhead and almost loses her balance.
I catch her, folding her into my chest.
She looks up with heated eyes.
“Wow. We reallyareback,” she whispers. “Feels familiar already.”
I smile back to that time in the attic, when we wound up in a similar position.
Hell, I think I fell for her right then.
“That time we kissed,” I growl.
“You can relive it.”
That’s all the invitation I need.
I swing her back up, kissing her long and hard before I see the blur in my peripheral vision.
I break away, holding out a hand, just in time to stop Dan from sprinting up the steps.
“Careful, Bud,” I say. “It’s icy over here. Why don’t you pass up your bags?”
Predictably, the very first thing he brought up was his drum pad. I take it off his hands.
With the door unlocked, Margot helps pass our luggage inside before heading in.
The place looks just like we left it, except we can see our breath.
She flicks on a light, and everything comes to life.
“Sooo cold! You can throw a penguin party in here.” Dan shivers.
“Won’t be for long,” I say, giving him back his drum pad. “Why don’t you move around while we crank the heat up? It’ll help. Go get settled upstairs.”
“You can choose your own room,” Margot adds. “Any room except for your dad’s room.”
“Our room,” I say.
She smiles then, her eyes dancing. “Our room, I mean.”
Dan doesn’t notice the exchange and shoots up. Sophie runs up after him, her suitcase flopping.
“Wait for me, Dan!” she yells, charging up the stairs.
I wince at the sound of the suitcase hitting every single step on the way up.
