Page 58 of Blocked Shot
Natalie feels exposed, like he has peered through her carefully constructed defenses to witness the fear beneath. “It’s easier to blame Jesse,” she admits. “Easier than saying I’m scared.”
Jake takes a step toward her, then another, until he is close enough for her to see the flecks of darker blue in his irises.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen with me, Natalie. I don’t know if I’m going to have a job after I heal, I don’t know where I’m going to be at the end of the season. But I know I’m falling for you. Have fallen for you. I know I want to make you happy. And I know being with you, when you let me, makes me happy.”
Her heart thunders against her ribs. “Jake?—”
Whatever she was about to say is cut off by a gust of wind that sends a drift of snow from the roof cascading down over them. Natalie gasps at the sudden cold shower, shoulders scrunching up to her ears as if that could save her from the icy trickle sliding past the defenses of her coat and down her bare back.
She sputters, brushing snow from her face, while Jake stands frozen, his eyebrows and few days of scruff now dusted in white. For amoment, there is only silence. Then Natalie catches sight of him, snow clinging to his eyebrows and hair, and a laugh burst from her lips. He blinks at her, then looks her over—her head and face blanketed by snow, her coat thick with powder. A grin tugs at his mouth, and suddenly, he is laughing too, deep and full.
The tension broken, Natalie brushes snow from her hair and shoulders. “Refreshing.”
Jake’s smile is the first genuine one she’s seen all day. He reaches out, helping her brush snow out of her hair with a gentleness that makes her breath catch.
Their eyes meet, and the laughter fades. His gloved hand lingers at the nape of her neck.
“Natalie,” he begins, but she doesn’t let him finish.
Instead, she grabs a handful of soft snow from the railing and throws it into his chest.
Jake stares at her for a moment, surprise giving way to determination. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
Before she can respond, he scoops up a handful of snow, packing it into a loose ball.
“Don’t you dare,” Natalie warns, but she is already backing away, a smile tugging at her lips.
The snowball hits her squarely on the shoulder, exploding in a puff of white.
“That’s for earlier,” Jake says, already reaching for more snow.
Natalie darts off the porch into the deeper snow of the yard, laughing as she packs her own snowball. “You’re going to regret that, MacDonald!”
What follows is the most childlike Natalie has felt in years. They chase each other around the yard, albeit with Jake moving much more slowly, lobbing increasingly creative snowballs.
Jake might be down an arm and nursing broken ribs, but his aim is still annoyingly on point. Natalie yelps as another snowball whizzes past her ear, ducking behind a tree like it’s war.
She peeks out and sees him grinning, cocky as ever, which only fuels her determination. Absolutely not. She will not be beaten by a wounded man throwing left-handed.
“Stand still, would you?” he calls, already packing another snowball like it’s a grenade.
“Not a chance!” she shouts back, hurling one of her own. It sails way too high and lands with a disappointing plop somewhere near a bush.
“Surrender now,” he calls, advancing slowly.
“Never,” Natalie replies, backing up the slope. Too late, she feels her footing slip on the icy incline beneath the fresh snow. Her arms windmill as she plants her bottom firmly into a snow drift.
Jake drops the snowball immediately, lunging forward to grab her. The momentum carries him into the snow, landing and rolling to avoid crushing her with an “oof.”
They lie there breathless from exertion and surprise. Snow clings to their hair and clothes, their faces flushed from cold and laughter.
“You okay?” Jake asks, turning to face her.
Natalie nods, suddenly very aware of their position. Of his body next to hers, solid and warm despite the snow surrounding them. Of his face inches from hers, his smile fading as he too registers their proximity.
“I’ve got you,” he says quietly, and she knows he isn’t only talking about preventing her fall.
The realization that she is tired of fighting this comes with startling clarity. She is tired of denying herself something she wants with every fiber of her being.
