Page 26 of An Unexpected Christmas
By the time I’ve wrangled my charger and tied my hair up, Sam’s already at his house. I smile at the sight of my living room and, without a second guess, I flick on the Christmas lights because I can, now everything is back on. The glow instantly reflects inside me too, my mouth tipping into a smile without any effort. I grab my boots, coat, and everything else I need and head out. I trudge through the thick snow. It’s freezing and unforgiving, coming almost to my mid calf, but at least it’s mostly stopped snowing now. I’ll have to check flights again to make a plan for what happens now.
Across the street, his porch light is on, and through the window, I catch a fleeting glimpse of him moving around. I pause, the sight tugging at me, because he isn’t the man I thought he was yesterday. I’d written him off as the kind who preferred silence to company, the kind who kept the world at arm’s length and notoriously grumpy… hot but grumpy. But watching him now, shoulders relaxed in his own space, I know better. There’s more to him than the scowl he hides behind.
I like him.
The realization makes heat prickle in my cheeks. I don’t judge people often, but with him, I was too quick, too blinded by his refusal to join in the Christmas cheer. And maybe, if I’m honest, I wanted him to be nothing more than the grumpy neighbor—because anything else feels a lot more dangerous. There’s a potential with him I haven’t experienced in a really long time.
Walking up to his door, I raise my hand to knock when it flies open and reveals Sam bundled into a jacket, a bag balanced in one arm, and a thermos in the other. Steam curls into the cold air. “Thought I’d save us the trek. Supplies,” he says simply, holding up the bag.
The smell of fresh coffee hits me, and I almost moan. “You’re officially infected.”
His brow furrows deep. “Infected?”
“With Christmas spirit. Coming to the neighbor’s house bearing gifts, food, and caffeine?” I grin. “It’s terminal. Sorry.”
He laughs, and I realize it’s quickly become a sound I love to hear from my… neighbor feels less intimate, but what is he? Friend? With… benefits? Probably not the best time to overthink this.
“I blame you,” he says, expelling plumes of white smoke into the cold air.
“It’s inevitable.”
“It’s the Frankie-effect. And I’m scared to see what spending more time with you will do to me.”
I should laugh it off, should throw back a quip about how I can corrupt him further with cookie dough and Christmas lights, but instead, my chest squeezes. Because, under the teasing, his voice had an edge of truth. And maybe I’m scared too, of what happens if this keeps going, if last night wasn’t just storm-induced madness but the start of something neither of us planned.
Before I can respond, the creak of a door cuts through the quiet morning. We both glance down the street just as Mrs. Kline, Sam’s elderly neighbor, appears, bundled in a robe with a bin bag half her size dragging behind her.
“Bloody hell,” Sam mutters, already moving. “Take these inside for me,” he says, pressing the thermos and bag into my arms before striding across the snow. His voice softens as he calls out, “Morning, Mrs. Kline. Here, let me get that.”
He takes the bag from her, his big frame bent low as she pats his arm in thanks. My throat warms in a way that has nothing to do with the anticipation of the coffee in my hands and everything to do with the man he is, but maybe I couldn’t fully appreciate before now.
I hug the thermos and head back into my house. Setting everything down on the kitchen counter, I walk back into the living area and plug my phone in and watch it power back to life. Messages ping one after the other, the most notable beingmy sister begging me to call because our mom is going mad with worry.
Pressing the video call button, I sit on the sofa, and she answers on the first ring.
“Finally!” Ivy, my sister, all but shouts. Behind her, I catch the blur of wrapping paper and the faint chaos of Christmas morning prep. “Where the hell have you been? Mom is two seconds away from calling the FBI.”
Before I can even say hello, the phone jostles and our mom leans into the frame, her face flushed with equal parts worry and relief. “Oh, thank god,” she breathes, her hand covering her heart. “Frankie, don’t you ever disappear like that again. A storm this bad and not a word from you? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Guilt tugs at me hard. “I’m sorry, Mom. The power was out, my phone died. I’m okay, I promise.”
Her eyes soften, but she shakes her head. “Too long without contact, sweetheart. The last message we got was that you couldn’t make it and were heading home, then nothing. I was so worried. What have you been doing? Are you okay?”
Ivy leans back into view, arms crossed, a knowing smirk pulling at her mouth. “Yeah, sis. Two whole days, snowed in. Alone.” She drags out the last word like she’s testing it.
Something hot prickles across my face. My lips part, but nothing useful comes out. Images flash unhelpfully through mymind… Sam’s mouth on mine, his laugh echoing in my kitchen, his hands gripping my hips as he... yeah, not helpful.
“I, um—”
The front door bursts open on a rush of cold air. Sam stomps in, bundled in his jacket, cheeks red from the wind, muttering with a theatrical shiver. “It’s bloody freezing out there. I hope you’re ready to warm me up, Frankie, because I’m half ice already.”
My mom’s mouth drops open on the tiny phone screen. Ivy lets out a screech of laughter. And me? I just about wish the snow would swallow me whole.
Sam
Who the hell just walked into your house?
The moment Frankie’s eyes connect with mine, I know I’ve fucked up. Her brown orbs are wide and panicked as she stares at me while a plethora of noises echo from her phone. I just about catch random words like “English”, “man”, “hot,” and I’m frozen on the spot just as much as Frankie is.
