Page 68 of Love Under Snowfall

“Ah, but she’s heard enough of my stories that she kind of does. She knows everything we’ve shared.” Johnny barked out a laugh at Benjamin’s cringe. “Before you ask, yes. She knows about all of it.”

“And she still pushed you to call, huh?”

“She did. It was something about how I ‘lit up’ when I talked about our shenanigans and how we’ve been there for eachother—the way brothers should. Said if I didn’t do it, she’d snatch my phone and meddle.” Johnny’s eyes crinkled so hard that Benjamin suspected he did so to push back a few tears. “God, I love that woman.”

“I owe her a thank you.”

“You do. Zac too,” Johnny scoffed and took a pull of his beer.

Benjamin recoiled. “Why Zac?”

“If he hadn’t been such a flake over the last few years, you would have been runner-up to his Miss Leavenworth.”

Benjamin chuckled and shook his head. He glanced at his beer bottle and traced a drip of condensation rolling down the logo. “I am sorry. I mean it. I’ve been a piss-poor friend. I promise to start visiting you more often. But, uh, in the summer.”

A mirthful bark of laughter ricocheted off the weathered tavern walls. “Not everyone’s built for the snow. Take my lovely almost-wife for example . . .”

He followed Johnny’s gaze to the back entrance, where the woman in question practically skipped through the door. Todd followed close behind, moving with breezy, self-assured strides, and two bridesmaids whom Lucy had introduced, though their names momentarily escaped him. Benjamin held his breath, heart thundering in his ears as he waited anxiously for the maid of honor, bringing up the rear of the cavalcade.

When Francesca entered the dimly lit dining room, the glow of the disappearing sun set fire to the golden waves swept casually behind one ear. Dressed in tight jeans and a cozy green sweater, she looked positively adorable. In an instant, the room brightened and warmed.

But the moment her amber eyes snagged on Benjamin, they dulled, and the glow faded. She looked away and replaced the genuine grin with an expertly manufactured version.

I did that.

I’m the reason she has to pretend to be comfortable in a room where she shouldn’t have a single care.

“—despite the Costco-size jar of hot fudge and my impersonation of the Swedish Chef singing ‘Thong Song,’” Johnny finished, shoulders heaving with laughter.

“What?” Benjamin hadn’t heard a word his friend had been saying.

“Exactly.” He chuckled, wiping away a tear. He took a swig and then jabbed out his elbow. “Hold my beer, will ya?”

Before he could ask for clarifiers, Benjamin’s hands were full, and the happy couple embraced for a quick yet slightly inappropriate kiss. He set both bottles down and strode to where the wedding party had begun to congregate. Without meaning to, his feet led him to stand beside the maid of honor. He rationalized that it was because of their roles and nothing to do with what happened in the cabin.

“You look rested.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“Let’s not. With the small talk.” She pivoted slightly toward him, arms crossed.

He nearly grinned at her effort to remain aloof. Despite her rigid shoulders and flat expression, he could practically feel her buzzing. “All I was saying was that you look nice.”

“Thanks,” she scoffed quietly.

Her fresh herbal scent accosted his senses as she ran a hand through her honey waves. Brain fogged with decadent memories, he reached forward and slid a lock aside to inspect her forehead. Surprisingly, she allowed the contact. His fingers grazed her skin while taking care not to touch too closely to the small, puckered cut she’d received the other day. Flashes of her tumbling, careening down the embankment stuck thickly in his throat, and he swallowed to banish the intrusive image.

“This will be a fun memory in the wedding pictures,” she lamented, gently brushing his hand away.

“A souvenir to remember our little adventure.”

Her lips pulled down in a scowl. “Sadly, I didn’t keep the receipt.”

“Francesca, I—”

“Food’s ready.” Miguel’s booming voice halted the hushed conversation and directed attention to the steaming taco bar along one of the walls. It was just as well, because Benjamin had no idea where his sentence was going, but he’d wager it wouldn’t have led anywhere productive.

“Has anyone tried his cell?” Miguel asked the rest of the group once dinner was done and the table and chairs had been pushed aside.

“I’ve texted and called a number of times.” Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Haven’t seen him since last night, though.”

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