Page 19 of An Unexpected Christmas
He shakes his head, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
I grin, but I’m not really sure what I’m suggesting. All I know is I’d like to give him a memory for this year, so he has something to hold on to. “Want to do something crazy?”
He shakes his head, watching me with interest, and that’s all I need to see. “I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into here.”
“Trust me,” I say, hoping he’ll hear what I actually mean, that he can trust me with all of it. I reach for my coat and boots, and he follows behind.
His face turns pale as he watches me. “Wait, where are you going?”
“To my house,” I reply, shrugging on my coat as I turn to face him. “And you’re coming with me,” I say, bopping his nose.
“It’s bloody freezing, Frankie.”
I yank my boots on with a grunt. “I’m aware it’s bloody freezing.” I mimic his cute accent, poorly, I might add.
“And you want us to go to your house?”
I stand tall again, with a satisfied sigh, ready to leave. “You like repeating what I say? Now,” I smile, “are you coming with me?”
Sam grumbles something under his breath but grabs his coat anyway, shoving his arms into the sleeves as he mutters, “You’re lucky I like you, Frankie.”
My smile is as wide as a river looking at him. “You like me, huh? I knew it wouldn’t take you long.” I wink, opening the door to the storm outside.
The wind slaps icy pellets against my cheeks, the kind that stings like tiny needles, but his hand steadies my elbow before Istumble down the porch steps. For all his complaints, he stays close, his touch tethering me to the ground. The storm howls, flakes sticking to my lashes, and yet all I can focus on is the heat radiating from the solid line of him beside me.
The street is empty, blanketed in untouched snow. I imagine everyone holed up in their houses, waiting for Christmas Eve-Eve in the morning. That should’ve been me in Boston. My heart aches at the change of plans, but I push it aside for now as we step off the curb, and the force of the gales immediately shoves into us.
Sam tightens his hold on my arm to steady me, his grip firm but warm even through the layers of fabric. “You’re going to get us killed, you know that?” he shouts over the storm.
“Are all British people this dramatic?”
“When it comes to weather, it’s one of our favorite topics to discuss, actually.”
We finally reach my house, both of us breathless and covered in snow. I fumble with the keys, my fingers stiff and clumsy from the cold. “Come on, come on,” I mutter, shoving the key into the lock. But the door refuses to budge.
“Is it stuck?” Sam asks, leaning against the frame as he rubs his hands together for warmth.
“It does this sometimes,” I huff, bracing my shoulder against the wood. “Help me?”
He steps up beside me, pressing one hand against the door while the other reaches around me tosteady it. “On three?”
I nod, shivering slightly, and I can’t tell if it’s from being outside or him being so close. “One… two… three!”
We push together, and the door gives way suddenly, sending us tumbling inside. I yelp as we land in a heap on the floor, the snow falling in with us as I realize I’ve landed right on top of him. For a second, neither of us moves, too stunned to do anything but stare at each other.
Then we burst into laughter. The kind where, within seconds, my ribs ache and my cheeks burn. And gosh, Sam smiling is something else entirely. Forget the hot, grumpy neighbor, I’ll take the happy, laughing neighbor instead.
His laughter fades first, his gaze dropping to mine. The space between us shrinks until I’m not sure if it’s me leaning down or him tilting up to meet me.
He smells like cold air and wet wool, and something that’s just him. My heart slams hard enough that I’m sure he can feel it. I try to laugh it off, to break the spell. “Well, that was… graceful.”
He grins up at me, his hand bracketing both of my hips, sending a spark to my very core. “You’ve got a unique way of doing a lot of things, you know.”
I shift to get up, but my hand slips on the wet floor, the movement dragging me forward, closer to him, and suddenly we’re nose to nose. The world narrows to breaths and heartbeats.
His fingers lift, brushing a stray curl from my cheek and lingering there, idly tracing the freckles along my skin like he’slearning them by touch. It takes everything in me to try and keep my breathing even.
“Frankie,” he murmurs, his voice low and uncertain, just like before, like he’s teetering on the edge of something he’s not sure he should fall into.
