Page 101 of Almost Ours
She laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “We’re more ‘sit by the fire with drinks’ types than ‘build the fire’ types.”
“Let me take a look,” I offered, stepping past her to inspect the sad pile of kindling.
Her laugh still lingered in my chest as I crouched down.
“Perfect timing,” Nina said, clearly over her annoyance with Shane–for now, at least. She pulled out a thermos and a bottle of peppermint schnapps from her bag. “We’re due for a refill. Hot chocolate with a kick, anyone?”
Shane grinned. “I’d love some.”
Nina narrowed her eyes at him, as if debating whether he actually deserved it. After a pause, she sighed dramatically and poured a mug for him, then another for me. “Don’t say I never did anything for you,” she muttered as she handed Shane his drink.
“Noted,” Shane replied with a smirk, taking a sip. “You’re a hero, Nina. Truly.”
Rolling her eyes, Nina topped off her own mug, then Harper’s, before capping the thermos. “You’re lucky it’s freezing out, or I’d make you earn it.”
Harper chuckled, taking her drink and nudging me lightly with her elbow.That tiny touch shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.
“Thanks, me too,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.
I took a sip of the drink, the warmth spreading through me, the minty sweetness hitting just right against the cold. Maybe it was the schnapps, or maybe it was Harper, either way, though, I felt warmer than I should in the freezing air.
While I crouched to light the fire, Harper stayed close, her presence a quiet distraction. She sipped her drink, occasionally glancing at me with that same playful sparkle in her eyes from the other day.
Once the fire was roaring, Shane grabbed his cup and wandered over to the boys, who were still hard at work on their jump. Harper stayed beside me, her eyes fixed on the flames.
“You’ve got some skills,” she said, nudging my arm again.
“Years of camping,” I replied, keeping my gaze on her as she turned toward me. “Figured I’d come prepared to impress you.”
Her cheeks turned pink. Not just from the cold. “Well, consider me impressed.”
I wanted to kiss her. The thought came fast and unexpected, tightening in my chest. Instead, I shifted, taking another sip of my drink, letting the moment settle around us.
We stood there in comfortable silence until Nina called over, holding her own drink. “Are you two joining the kids, or are you just gonna stand there basking in the glow of the fire?”
Harper laughed, her breath visible in the cold air. “Let’s go.”
And just like that, she grabbed my hand–only for a second, only to tug me forward–but the ghost of it lingered as we made our way toward the hill, the fire crackling warmly behind us.
The snow crunched under our boots, the hill glowing under the spill of light from the fire and the sun above. I glanced around–at the slope dotted with sleds, at the frost glittering on the trees–and then my hand found the small of her back. I guided her a little closer, leaning down until my breath brushed her ear.
“I want to see you tonight,” I murmured, low enough that it was only for her.
Her head tilted toward me, eyes catching mine with a spark of mischief. She didn’t say a word–just gave me that playful, knowing look and a small nod.
We reached the top of the hill where Shane, Nina, and the boys were waiting, their laughter and shouts cutting through the cold night air.
The restof the afternoon felt like one long, happy blur of laughter and snow. Shane and I teamed up against Connor and Liam for races down the hill. It wasn’t even close–we let the boys win every time, but it didn’t matter. Their cheers of victory and the looks of pure joy on their faces were worth every fake defeat.
Harper and Nina joined in the fun, taking turns racing the boys and each other. At one point, Harper grabbed a sled and waved me over with a mischievous grin. “You’re riding with me,” she said, patting the seat in front of her.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. She sat down first, and I slid in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist to keep her steady. She was laughing before we even started moving, her voice carrying above the chatter around us.
As we shot down the hill, the icy wind whipped past us, yet all I could focus on was how she felt pressed against me. Her laughter was infectious, and for a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but us.
We hit a small bump near the bottom of the hill, and the sled tipped sideways. We tumbled into the snow in a heap, arms and legs tangled together. Harper was laughing–light and unrestrained, the kind of sound that tumbled out of her in a rushand made you want to hear it again–so hard she could barely catch her breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.
