Page 53 of Scrooged for the Holidays
Chapter sixteen
Greer
Irestonaplush cream-colored couch, staring into the roaring fire in the inn. I’m confused about what happened on the ice, how I slipped. One second, I’m having fun. Honest-to-god fun.
Then it all changed.
Before this afternoon, if you’d asked me the last time I’d had fun, I’d have said it was working. I like earning money, like striving to be better every day. But today’s brand of fun reminded me of the past, of the memory I saw while I slept: throwing snowballs for Cooper and having him catch them in the air. A day I truly experienced joy.
Even after I got into a weird staring contest with that guy, Sam, and nearly fell on my ass, twinging my ankle, I still felt happy. Honestly, I don’t understand how the slip occurred. I saw Sam, my stomach flipped, my skin got hot, then there was this intense wave I couldn’t describe, and I swear I felt something touch my ankle. Next thing I knew, I was falling, and he was nowhere to be found.
“I have ice for you, love.”
I look from the fire as Remi comes into the room. The space doubles as both a dining room and a library. There’s a beautiful large oak table that looks hand carved near the back of the room with an antique six-light chandelier hanging aboveit that has white Christmas lights strung through its arms. Full bookshelves line the walls, and I’m on the couch in front of a fire that heats my face. Remi seated me on the chaise lounge part of it so I could put my ankle up. We’re the only ones here, and I haven’t seen another soul even walk in.
“Don’t you think we’ve had enough ice?” I tease.
Remi looks as surprised as I do by my teasing, but I find it’s easy to do so with him after spending nearly two hours together skating with his hands on me, our laughter mingling as I attempted to say upright. The time went by quickly, and I let myself be free.
I think not having the internet helped. Not being able to work unleashed a side of me that I had locked away long ago. And it wasn’t just being spontaneous—I was having fun, feeling joy from doing something with another person that wasn’t work.
Come to think of it, it’s an odd feeling. My insides are kind of warm and fuzzy. I’m not sure if I like it, but it’s there, like a flame flickering in the wind.
“I don’t know. You looked like you would have stayed out on the rink had I not broken my promise.” Remi kneels on the floor at the end of the chaise lounge. He sets the ice pack down and takes my sock-covered foot in his large hand, turning it gently as he watches my face.
He already checked it over, and it hardly hurts. It was a small tweak, nothing ice and a bit of elevation can’t fix. I’ll be good as new before dinner. But I won’t lie, I like when he touches me. It makes my heart trip over itself and my cheeks heat.
“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“Just a dull throb. You caught me before I could really hurt it.” When I slipped, he grabbed my upper arms, so my butt never hit the ice. My ankle just twisted to the side in the skate when I floundered.
His square jaw flexes, his green eyes dimming with what looks like fury. “I’m sorry you got hurt at all. You were doing so well; I should have been faster to catch you.”
There’s an itch inside me to tell him to sit next to me. I want to comfort him and bring a smile back to his face again, the one he so freely gave me as we skated on the ice.
What the fuck?What an odd thought. I don’teverwant to comfort people.
“Did I hit my head when I fell?” I ask.
Remi places the ice over my ankle, shooting a shiver up my spine at the cold. He stands and cocks his head. “No, you didn’t. Why do you ask?”
I purse my lips together and shake my head. “No reason.”
He studies me for a beat longer before he moves toward the open seat next to me on the couch. “Mind if I sit?”
“It’s your inn,” I say, trying to act like I didn’t just think about asking him to do exactly that.
His lip twitches. “I wasn’t sure. I thought you might be sick of me by now.”
“Surprisingly, you don’t annoy me as much as I expected you to.”
His deep chuckle in response makes my toes curl. “That’s good to hear. I feel the same about you.”
Our gazes remain locked, the flicker of the fire behind his tall and muscular frame making him look almost otherworldly. As he sits beside me, the cushion sinks from his weight, and the warmth of his body flows into my arm. We aren’t touching, but we’re close enough that I could drop my head onto his shoulder if I wanted. But that would be stupid.
We’re not exactly friends, more acquaintances. And while we’ve been innocently flirting and I believe us both to be attracted to each other, I doubt the inn owner whose decor and business practices I insulted would want me to cuddle with him.
Not to mention, I don’t cuddle. I have meaninglesssex—that’s it.
