“Oh, geez, kid, I’m sorry,” he muttered, moving to help her.
“I’m not a kid,” the girl said, struggling to get up.
He didn’t know how to help, so he grabbed her jacket sleeves and pulled her skyward until she was settled on her little kid-sized snow boots.
“Unhand me,” she scoffed, pushing him back. Surprisingly, the little critter was strong, and he stumbled back a few steps.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed as he flailed his arms to catch his balance on the ice. “Feisty little thing.”
“You got mud on my new jacket,” she groaned, looking at her sleeve.
Sure enough, a huge mud smear adorned the purple puffer material.
“You match your suitcase.”
She lifted her little chin higher into the air. He couldn’t tell what look she was giving him from behind the oversized sunglasses that adorned her little pixie face, but he would guess she was glaring.
It rankled him. “I’m just going to point out that I was standing here for no less than five minutes, and all I did was turn around and you went flying. Why on earth were you trying to barrel through me?”
“I wasn’t trying to barrel through you.” A lock of her brunette, shoulder-length hair flew into her mouth and stuck to her pink lipstick. She spat it out, but it didn’t work so she had to push it away with her purple mitten clad hand. “I was trying to ask you a question.”
“From three millimeters away from me?”
“Well, I was about to knock!”
“Knock on me? Why?”
She parted her lips to say something but then seemed to change her mind. “You know what? Never mind. I will figure it out myself.”
“Check in is that way,” he ground out, pointing to the main lodge.
“I already checked in,” she muttered as she removed her glasses from her face. She glared at the snow on them and then struggled to unzip her knee length purple puffer jacket.Watching her struggle with the zipper was the most entertaining thing he’d seen in months.
How did this woman survive out in the real world.
She made this cute little squeak as the zipper got stuck halfway, and then handed him her snow-dusted sunglasses, and then her purse, and then a lavender colored bag that was on her shoulder.
“Why am I holding your shit?” he asked.
“Why are you cussing?”
Lance pursed his lips and counted to three in his head for patience. “Why am I holding your stuff,” he asked, watching her struggle with the stuck zipper.
“I need to clean off my sunglasses.”
“Hey lady—”
“At least you aren’t calling me a child anymore,” she grumbled, pulling on the zipper.
“Well, you’re the size of a grasshopper, and dressed like a second grader, so pardon my assumption.”
“You are really rude,” she said, flashing her eyes up at him.
Whatever snarky comeback he was planning got lodged in Lance’s throat as he saw her face. Her eyes were glowing an unnatural gold color that not even her thick bangs could hide.
“Oh my hell, you’re one of them,” he whispered.
She let off another little squeak, and snatched the sunglasses from his grasp, then shoved the snow-covered shield over her eyes, and pulled at her bangs like they would hide her face better. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
