Page 51 of A Christmas For Holly

“And you’ve got snow all over your face,” I shot back, my voice quieter.

His smile widened, his hand lingering briefly before he leaned in. I didn’t move, or even think to, as his lips met mine, warm and soft and so out of place in the freezing cold. The snow didn’t matter, the ache in my arms didn’t matter—nothing did except how his mouth moved against mine, slow and tentative at first, then deeper, surer.

When we broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us still catching our breath for an entirely different reason.

“You’re not bad at this,” I teased.

“At kissing?” he asked, his grin returning.

“Yeah. Way better than throwing snowballs.”

He laughed, his breath warm against my skin. “Guess I’ve got my priorities straight, then.”

We stayed like that for a moment, the cold forgotten, before reality nudged its way back in. Holly sighed, sitting back and brushing the snow off his knees. “We should probably finish digging out the rest of the path.”

“Right,” I said, though I didn’t move yet. “But so that you know, I’m winning the snowball fight next time.”

He laughed again, standing and offering me his hand. “Is that before or after our snowman-building competition?”

“We’re having a snowman-building competition?”

He shrugged and gestured at all the snow. “Seems like a good idea.”

And somehow, in the cold with snow soaking through my gloves, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Once inside, we peeled off all the outdoor gear, tossing wet gloves and scarves over chairs to dry. Holly grinned at me, shaking the snow from his hair. “I don’t like the cold,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed from the work. “The Harriers wanted to trade me to Calgary, and look, IknowCalgary has good weather sometimes, but… shit, it can get cold.”

I chuckled, hanging up my coat. “Well, Vermont has proper seasons. Warm summers and beautiful falls… but winter storms can get rough. Though, I promise, they aren’ttypicallythis bad.” I glanced outside at the snow that had started up again. “This one’s a beast.”

Holly gave me a wry smile. “I’ll take your word for it, but I’m still not a fan of winter.”

“Don’t worry, spring’s coming,” I deadpanned as Holly headed to the kitchen. But something wasn’t right. He was limping, moving slowly, favoring one leg.

“Did you hurt yourself?” I asked, frowning as I followed him.

“It’s a hockey injury,” he said with a shrug as though it was no big deal. “Torn meniscus, way back.”

I blinked, the memory coming back to me. He’d been out for the last ten games that season. Before that, Holly had been on fire. He was racking up points like crazy—goals, assists, everything. He’d carried the Harriers to the playoffs on his back, and I told him.

“You remember that?” Holly asked, raising an eyebrow.

I dipped my head, feeling a little heat in my face. “I’m a Harriers fan. My best friend was on the team; of course, I remember.” I paused, then added, “But I wasn’t always watching for Kai… there was always something about you that drew me in.”

Holly stared at me, surprised, and I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Anyway, you want ice for your knee?”

“I should,” he said, rubbing his leg. “And maybe elevate it for a while.”

I helped him get comfy on the sofa, propped up his leg on a small table with a pillow, and gave him the ice pack for his knee. He sighed as he settled back, the tension easing from his expression.

I knelt next to him and kissed his ankle and then his shin, lifting the ice pack and pressing a kiss to his knee. “All better,” I murmured, and his breath caught when I smiled up at him.

“Lucas…”

Something shifted inside me, something I couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking, I moved closer, and then, driven by a need I couldn’t quite explain, I straddled his lap. I kept my weight forward, careful of his knee, and rested my hands on the sofa behind his head. His eyes widened; he was surprised but didn’t push me away.

“It was always you that I watched,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

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