“Then stop acting like one,” I said lightly. “Come on. It’s a baby hill. If I rolled you down it in a sleeping bag, you’d just look cozy.”
He huffed, but after a second he accepted my arm as he lowered himself down, movements stiff and careful. His hands went to either side of the sled, fingers pressing into the edges like he was anchoring himself.
I moved in front of him, boots on either side of the sled’s nose, blocking his view of the drop so he had to look at me.
wHis eyes lifted, hood shadowing the top of his face. The wind had put color in his cheeks, making him look more alive than I’d seen him in weeks.
“This is a terrible idea,” he said.
“It’s a tiny hill and fresh powder.”
“Things go wrong on tiny hills too.”
“True,” I said. “But I am very dedicated to not having to explain to my mother that I killed her favorite contractor in a low-impact sledding incident.”
“Real comforting, Duchess.”
“You’re the one who’s acting like a princess. Ready?”
He opened his mouth, about to start another argument or give an excuse to cover the fear I could feel coming off him in waves. “I still think this is a terrible idea.”
“That’s small-dick behavior, Vaughn.” My eyebrows bounced as I lowered my gaze to meet his. “And I’ve seen it, so ...”
The words hung there, suspended between us in the cold, white air.
His eyes went wide.
He just stared at me like I’d hauled off and slapped him across the face. Shock hit first, cracking through his expression so fast I almost bit my tongue to keep from laughing. Then it shifted—slow, dark, molten—into something else entirely.
Heat.
His gaze dropped, rapid and automatic, a flicker down my face, my coat, like he was replaying the memory whether he wanted to or not.
“Jesus, Clara.” His voice came out rough. He stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “You can’t just?—”
“Name the thing we’re both thinking about?” I lifted a shoulder. “Too late.”
Something flickered in his eyes—half outrage, half arousal, full of things we had no business opening up out here in the snow.
“That is absolutely a violation of the roommate code,” he said, trying for unaffected but landing somewhere closer to wrecked. “Weaponizing ... that.”
“Relax.” I stood to my full height. “It was a compliment.”
I had definitely crossed a line, but there was no taking it back. He knew I’d liked what I saw. I knew he knew. The truth of it sat there, hot and dangerous, right next to the fear he kept trying to dress up as irritation.
He opened his mouth, maybe to regain control again, maybe to throw another excuse on the fire.
I didn’t let him.
“You’re not afraid of this hill.” I planted my hands on my hips. “You’re scared of what happens if you trust your body and it lets you down again.”
His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump. I thought he might actually tell me to go to hell and haul himself back up the slope.
The wind tugged at the ends of my scarf. Snow glittered around us, bright and indifferent.
“News flash, Vaughn,” I said softly. “You already lived through the worst thing. This?” I motioned down the hill. “This is just gravity and bad decisions. It’s choosingfun.”
His gaze searched my face, something raw and aching in it.
