Page 17 of Snow Much Trouble
“Hey! I said I wouldn’t throw the snowball at you!”
I grin at him. “I never said I wouldn’t throw one atyou.”
He chuckles. “You are a naughty girl. With very bad aim.”
For the second time since Dylan arrived at the cabin, I can’t come up with a sharp response. Instead, I tilt my face skyward and let the snow drift down onto my face, coat my eyelashes. The woods around us are silent, the kind of quiet that feels sacred, like we're the only two people left in the world.
In Nashville, there's always noise. There’s traffic, music spilling out of honky-tonks, people laughing and shouting and living their lives at full volume.
Yet somehow standing in the woods with the tip of my nose numb from the cold, I feel completely and totally alive.
"This is pretty cool, isn’t it?" Dylan's voice is soft as he turns back toward me.
"It's so peaceful," I say. "I forgot how quiet snow can be."
He walks back to where I'm standing, and in the pale light reflecting off the snow, I can see his face more clearly. There's something in his expression that makes my pulse quicken.
"I'm glad we're here," he says quietly.
We're standing close enough that I can see the snowflakes caught in his dark hair, close enough that when I wobble a little in the wet snow, he grips the front of my coat to steady me. The scarf he gave me smells like him, and suddenly I'm very aware of how alone we are out here.
In a good, but very bad way.
"Lauren," he says, and his voice has gone lower, rougher.
I look up at him, and there's something in his green eyes that makes my stomach flutter. He reaches up and brushes a snowflake from my cheek, his thumb lingering against my skin.
"Yeah?" He’s going to kiss me. And I’m going to kiss him back.
"I think?—"
THUMP.
A massive clump of snow falls from the branch directly above us, landing squarely on Dylan's head and shoulders and sending a cascade of powder down the back of my borrowed coat.
Dylan
“Holy shit,” I say, a little stunned at how much snow just fell on my head.
Lauren shrieks and jumps up and down to get the snow out of her coat.
I had every intention of kissing Lauren and instead nature said, “Not today, motherfucker.”
Disappointed, I shake my head like a wet dog, snow flying everywhere.
Lauren starts laughing. "That was just rude of the snow, wasn’t it?"
"Very," I say, swiping snow off of my face and mouth. “Are you cold?” I ask her. She’s shivering.
She nods. “Very.” She gives me a smile. “But your scarf saved me. Without it, I would have a very wet neck and back.”
Which…makes me visualize Lauren naked and wet. I almost groan.
Now we’re smiling at each other. We’re doing it again. Looking and smiling. I can’t tell if she thinks I’m an idiot or if she is receptive to the idea of snowstorm sex in front of a roaring fire.
So I reach behind her and brush off her upper back, the powder raining down onto the deck.
She makes a face and tries to look over her shoulder at her own back. “We should go in before we get too cold and can’t warm up. The hot chocolate will all be cold by now and all we have is the fireplace.”
