“It was. I stirred the pot a bit. Told her Harper wouldn’t act like this.”
“And she didn’t tear your head off?”
“I think she realized how ridiculous she was being, but she really hates me now. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I lied and said I had to use the bathroom, and I need to catch up with them. Bye.”
Chapter 23
Ford
The metal ladder digs into my shoulder as I trudge through ankle-deep snow around the Wallace’s house. My breath clouds in front of me while I scan the barren trees, mapping where each strand of lights should hang.
Somewhere behind those kitchen windows, Harper’s probably watching—the back of my neck tingles with that familiar warmth whenever she’s near.
Eric curses as he fumbles with cold fingers, and Lance keeps checking his watch. When we finally secure the last strand, the sky has turned deep purple. They stomp toward the house, but I linger, plugging in the cord.
The trees burst to life with golden pinpricks against the darkening sky. A door creaks open, and there’s Harper, her cheeks flushed pink from the heat inside, steam rising from the mug clutched between her mittened hands.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“It looks great! There’s just one branch that’s a little off. Do you mind?”
“Fix away,” I reply.
Harper drags the ladder across the snow, its metal feet leaving twin trails behind her. She scales the rungs with practiced ease, reaching for that one drooping strand Eric left behind—typical Eric. My own sections hang in perfect symmetry, each bulb equidistant from the next.
She stretches upward, denim pulling taut across her curves, and I find myself forgetting to breathe.
The branch snaps back. Her red jacket catches, yanking her sideways. My muscles react before my mind does—hot cocoa flies through the frigid air as I lunge forward. Her weight lands against my chest, knocking the wind from me. Beneath us, the snow glistens, deceptively soft over frozen ground that would have cracked her head like an egg.
“I ripped my jacket,” she pouts, then smiles up at me. “You always seem to be around when I need saving, don’t you?”
“Must be lucky.”
“Lucky you or lucky me?”
I hold her securely and grin. “Both. But mostly me.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, pupils wide in the twilight. My gaze drops to her lips, still parted slightly from her fall. Her fingers tighten against my jacket, and I feel her breath catch when I lean forward just an inch.
I pause there, watching the flicker of Christmas lights dance across her face, waiting for that almost imperceptible nod she always gives. The one that’s been coming more frequently these past few weeks.
“What are we doing?” Harper whispers.
“In life or…?”
She grins. “Right now. Are you going to put me down?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Probably best if you do.”
Reluctantly, I set her down. I can’t keep her in my arms if she doesn’t want to be there.
But then her mittened hand finds mine, tugging me behind the massive pine. The scent of sap and winter fills my lungs as she backs against the trunk, her eyes reflecting golden pinpricks from the strands above. Her breath forms tiny clouds between us, each one shorter than the last. When she pulls me closer, my heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to reach her.
The rough bark catches at my glove as I brace myself, her lips parting beneath mine. She tastes like cocoa and something sweeter: Possibility.
Her fingers thread through my hair, nails grazing my scalp, sending electricity down my spine. I press closer, feeling her shiver against me, not from cold.
