“Keely. You’re amazing. And beautiful, and strong, and brave ...”
Maybe Griffin was right. He just needed to break free of the swirl of anger, and grief and ... thinking.
Just always thinking.
He closed the gap. “But don’t do that ever again.”
“Do what?” she whispered, her breath wisping out.
“Disappear.”
Then he let go of the swirl inside, the ever-present hum of chaos and noise, leaned down, and kissed her.
Her lips were cold, and for a second, she didn’t move. And aw, this was a—
Then she gripped his jacket, hung on, and kissed him back.
Really kissed him back. As if she might be hungry, and maybe a little desperate, or eager, and sure, it ignited the need in him to be a hero, but also simply heated him all the way through and stirred to life an unfamiliar ember inside him.
He’d call it hope. Or maybe life.
He deepened his kiss, moving his arms around her, pullingher against him. The wind stirred the trees, snow drifting down. And sure, maybe the blizzard started to rouse, to groan...
But right here, in this wonderland pocket, nothing could touch him.
Nothing—
She caught her breath and leaned away. He lifted his head, met her eyes.
They were wide, a hint of shock or even regret in them. “I ... I’m sorry. This was ... Really, Dawson. This ... this can’t work.”
He frowned at her.What—?
Then she whirled and headed up the path, almost stumbling to get away.
Aw. No. Thiswasn’thappening.
He caught up to her, stepped out ahead of her—which said something about his knee—and stopped. “And clearly you don’t know me if you think you’re going anywhere without me. C’mon. You know the drill.” He crooked his arm.
A moment. A breath. Then she slid her arm through his. “Please don’t let me hurt you.”
He had a feeling it might be too late.
9
SHE HAD LANDEDIN GROUNDHOG DAY.
Keely lay in the bed, again, listening to the wind howl outside, the snow pinging against her window. Same wind. Same smells—cotton, coffee, the scent of fire from the hearth—sneaking under her door. The room seemed warmer today, however, and...
No, nothing was the same.
Dawson had kissed her. And she hadn’t stopped him—not soon enough, at least. Not before the lure of his kiss made her sink into his embrace and kiss him back.
Oh my.
And worse, he tasted exactly of the amazing man who raced out into the cold to find her. A hero.
She closed her eyes and let herself sink into his arms again, remember the smell of him, all wood chips and pine, the feel of his touch—desire, and maybe a little hope ...
