“Even then,” he answered. “I didn’t even contemplate it. I didn’t think I had a chance in hell with you.”
“Would it surprise you to know that I did think about it?” I admitted.
“It would.” The wide smile that pulled at the edges of his lips lit me up. “Considering how quickly you ran out of the bar when you found out about the tennis.”
“Everyone has a flaw.” I waved my hand. “You play with green fuzzy balls and call it sport. I drink wine like its water.”
He hummed. “I guess we could argue that you’re no longer sworn off tennis players.”
“No, that still stands,” I argued. “I’m sure that you made it perfectly clear that you’re a coach, not a player.”
“That is true,” he murmured, lips pressed to my bare skin, as if he ached to taste me again. “It was important that we made the distinction.”
I laughed softly, my fingers still playing lazy patterns across his chest. We laid there in a quiet moment that felt…full. Not an awkward silence, but something I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Peace.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I said, my voice low, taking in his dark gaze and the little curl of hair that kept lying perfectly in the middle of his forehead, “and I’m going to start thinking you wanna go for a second round.”
“Oh?” He smirked. “I’m not the one giving the eyes here.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I feigned innocence, although it was a struggle to fight the smirk from my lips. “I was only looking for somebody to fix the heating, and all of a sudden I’m being stuck on the back of a sled and seduced.”
“You weren’t complaining earlier.”
I stretched, deliberately slow, arms above my head and the sheet slipping dangerously low. “That’s because I’m very polite.”
He let out a low laugh, his hand slipping over my waist. “I didn’t think it was very polite when you admitted that you were trying to get me to come in my pants.”
“Like it wasn’t the highlight of your week.”
He grinned, full and unbothered. “Year, actually.”
I bit my bottom lip, trying not to smile too wide. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it.”
God help me, I really, really do.
The wind howled against the cabin windows, a reminder that the snowstorm still hadn’t let up.
“Looks like we might get snowed in,” he said, following my attention.
“Oh really?” I said. “How long do you think we might get stuck for?”
Jonah’s grin turned positively wicked. “Long enough for a third round. Maybe a fourth. Definitely long enough to ruin you for any future holiday flings.”
I laughed, pushing him back against the pillows. “Big talk for someone who hasn’t even come yet.”
“Are you volunteering for the job?” he joked.
I caught him with a slow smile as I leaned in close. “Well…don’t you think it’s about time I returned the favour?”
eleven
KIT
‘Tis the damn season - Taylor Swift
For the last ten years, I’d spent Christmas Day the same way: hungover, normally from Elton John’s annual party the night before.
