His knuckle raised to graze her forehead, and he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, eyes narrowed and unreadable.
Rachel flung back and scurried in an uncoordinated crabwalk over the snow. She sprung to her feet. This time, her shoes gripped the ice firmly, but it didn’t keep her from feeling like she was still spinning. Still struggling to find up and down.
Holden bobbled back to a standing position too. He lifted the large sled and held it vertically; the edge jammed into the snow as he peered at her over it. “You surprise me.”
“How so?” She smoothed her palms over her static-coated hair and swept it into a ponytail. She figured she looked like she had stuck her finger in a socket. She sort of felt like she had. All of this electricity between them charged the air, their energy, her nerves.
“You’re really fun.”
“And you didn’t think I was fun before?” She fit a hair tie around a loose bun and moved her hands to her hips.
“If I’m being totally honest, you weren’t all that fun in high school. You never came out to any of the games or parties. Never spent time with any of your classmates outside of school projects. The only time I got to see you was when we were competing in something.”
He was right. She hadn’t gotten out much. But she hadn’t realized her absence from those events had even been noticed. “I had a goal, and it didn’t allow time for much else.”
“And what’s your goal now?”
To keep myself from falling for youwas the answer waiting on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she offered, “For us to build the best snowman Snowdrift Summit has ever seen.”
He bought her fib and laughed. “I think that’s something we can coordinate.”
There wasn’tan official medal for the snowman to win, but had there been one, theirs would’ve secured first place. And the best part of it all was the creation was equal parts Rachel and Holden. The snowman sported Rachel’s holiday scarf, along with Holden’s wool beanie. She supplied false lashes and buttons for eyes while Holden borrowed a carrot from his fridge for the nose and found a piece of red licorice for a mouth. For arms, he pulled a few branches left from the Hart family tree that were still in the back of his pickup, and Rachel donated her fingerless gloves to the project.
“Now there’s no chance his hands will get cold,” Holden had teased, and instead of annoyance, she finally found the humor in it. She’d lightheartedly nudged him in the side and he scooped her into his arms in a hug that had her wishing they didn’t have to leave for the Hart’s cabin. In that moment, curling up on the couch with cocoa and a movie sounded like the perfect end to their lovely day.
Holden assured her that could still happen, but only after they visited his parents.
She hadn’t been anxious at the start of the day, but as the minutes ticked down, apprehension swelled within her. Holden explained that Zeke Hart was fine with the way things shook out over the whole Christmas tree thing. Rachel just prayed there wasn’t any residual animosity regarding the outcome, or for the many years she had put their son through the ringer. Her own mother had a tendency to switch into Mama Bear mode when it came to her daughter. She doubted Jill Hart was any different regarding her only son.
But Holden—of all people—had detected the change in Rachel. Would his parents be as perceptive? Or forgiving?
“I don’t like showing up empty-handed,” she confessed on the ride over. Why hadn’t she thought to toss a bottle of red wine into her bag? Or taken the time to bake a fresh batch of cookies? Goodness, she could have even stopped by her parents’ store to grab a quick, prepackaged item. “I should have brought something with me,” she groused.
“That’s not expected,” Holden assured. From the small back seat of the cab, Scout pressed her face in between them.
Rachel leaned around the pup. “I know it’s not expected, but it’s still a nice gesture.”
“If you’d like, we can swing by the store, but that might make us late. I’m happy to stop, but it’s up to you.”
That wasn’t the better option, so Rachel let it rest. “You sure they’re okay with me tagging along?”
“First of all, you’re not tagging along. You’re my date. And second, my mother lives for this. Any opportunity to cook for guests is better than Christmas for her.”
Rachel noticed another truck as they inclined into the driveway, but couldn’t pinpoint where she’d seen it before. She hadn’t anticipated an entire house full of company.
“That’s Lance’s.” Holden noted her gazing toward the additional vehicle. “He’s always here. More often than I am.”
Lance was harmless, but still a loose cannon. And after their strange interaction the other night, when he’d caught Holden at her place during the storm, she wasn’t sure what to expect out of him. She felt her guard rising already.
It turned out he was much more preoccupied with getting someone else’s attention than he was in drawing attention to the situation between Rachel and Holden.
“How long has Lance liked your sister?” Rachel asked later when they were alone at the kitchen island, a spread of charcuterie arranged in holiday shapes and colors on culinary display.
Holden coughed. “What?” He pounded his chest with a fist.
“Lance.” She nudged the tip of a baby carrot toward Sarah, Lance, and Laney, all huddled on the floor playing with a stuffed reindeer that sang when they pressed an antler. “How long has he been interested in your sister?”
“Lance isn’t interested in my sister.” He plunged a piece of broccoli into a dish of ranch, nearly drowning the poor vegetable. “That’s crazy.”
