Page 12 of Snowed in with My Pucking Ex
“Noted, hockey boy, but you should be careful with words like that.” I fire back, hooking my pinkie with his, and lead the way to the kitchen. It’s bad enough that I already can’t seem to peel my eyes off of him every time he’s around, and the fact that I once carried a torch for the man. The last thing I need is even more reasons to fall head over heels for the guy.
He dutifully helps me set the table that’s at its full length, the leaves added to comfortably accommodate everyone. I smooth the crisp mustard colored tablecloth, watching as the light streams through the dining room windows. The sun hitting it changes the color, making the tablecloth seem lighter than it actually is. The fabric is thick beneath my fingers, pressed to perfection before it was put away since the last time we used it. It was Nan’s tablecloth from Mom’s side, and it has these fanciful embroidered patterns she’d sewn on it herself. We only use it for special occasions like Thanksgiving. Mom has a few different colors that we also bring out to admire around the holidays.
“Where do you want this?” Sean asks a little while later.
He’s holding the small, clear vase that’s shaped like a bowl I used to hold the mixture of burnt orange and plum-colored chrysanthemums I put together yesterday afternoon. I added a few sprigs of greenery and finished it off by tying a bow around the middle of the bowl. With the snow outside, the blooms won’t last long on Mom’s porch, so I took advantage of having the fresh flowers to add some beauty to our Thanksgiving table setup.
“I should’ve made some decorative place cards,” I comment, stepping back to admire our handiwork. Maybe some little pumpkins with our names or something to give it the extra touch. The warm glow from the tiny votive candles we placed near the ends of each side flickers warmly. “Are the candles too much?”
A snort comes from him, drawing my attention away from the special china and silverware we use for different occasions. His brows are raised, amusement dancing over his handsome features. “You’re worried about not making place cards, and you think the candles are too much.” He states.
My eyes turn to slits as I glare, annoyed that he had to point out the obvious of me being a bit over the top. It’s weird enough not having my siblings around, and him doing this with me instead. He’s obviously not used to me and my siblings trying to make it as fancy as we can to surprise Mom when she’s ready to serve the food. We’ve done it since we were children; it all started the year my brother spent the week before fall break at school coloring everyone's placemats. It was game on from then, over who could add special touches to make each year a little different. Rather than tell him my life story, I spin on my heels and take off for the kitchen, ready for the next task.
Later, I’m outside huffing and puffing as I trek back and forth from the woodpile to the front porch. Mom said we’re getting low on firewood, so of course I volunteered to grab some more. What a dumb idea, because it’s cold outside and my cutethinThanksgiving attire was not designed for this type of manual labor.
“Ouch! Shoot!” I drop the log I was carrying and check my hand. Sure enough, there’s blood on it now.
“You okay?” A sudden looming presence at my side asks, making me jump in my cute heeled booties.
“Mmhm,” I mumble, trying to ignore the way my body fires up with him beside me.
“Let me see,” he demands, his much larger, warm hand takes mine, flipping it over to check out my palm. He leans in close, tilting my hand this way and that, and so help me, I get a whiff of his addictive cologne. If I pull away from him, I’ll seem rude, but if I remain this close, I may just lean in and sniff his shirt.
“Uh, I’m okay. See, it’s just a scratch.” I attempt to step away, but he catches my wrist.
“It could be a nail. We may need to get your mom to look at it and give you a tetanus shot.”
I roll my eyes, because really? This is not a big deal in the slightest, and he’s the one overreacting now. Besides, I will fight him every step of the way if he thinks I’m missing Thanksgiving dinner with my family to get a shot over a scratch.
Chapter Eight
Sean
As soon as I’d stepped out on the porch looking for Winter, I’d heard her yelp. Her mom told me she was outside getting more firewood, so I came to see if she’d like me to take over for her or to at least help. I don’t mind being out here; I’m used to the cold. I like it, even, I’d have to, or being a hockey player would be a hard pill to swallow since I’m always out on the ice.
Fire blazes in Winter’s eyes, the only warning I get that she’s about to argue with me. I can’t help being concerned. When I heard her voice in pain, my entire body felt like it was ready to burst if I didn’t get to her, and it wasn’t in a good way. I leapt off the porch, ready to launch into a full sprint to find her, but luckily, she was right on the side of the house. I panicked at the thought of her being hurt, and it may not have been my finest moment to overreact, but I can’t help it. With everything going on in her life right now, I’m feeling overly protective and worried about her. Or, at least that’s what I silently tell myself to make my actions all seem rational.
“It’s not a big deal, it’s a scratch.” She mutters again, while bending down and turning the log over a few times before standing back up. “See? No metal. Just a piece of wood that managed to cut me when I tripped.” She shoots the wood a scowl, her irritation making me want to grin, but I hold it back. I know it’d only piss her off further, and I’m trying to keep the stress off her, not add more. She’s like a little bear, cute and cuddly, but if you test her, she’ll let you know in a heartbeat.
“You should have your mom look at it. I can finish getting the wood for inside.”
“I’ll help, I said I’m okay.”
My brow furrows at her continuing to be stubborn. When she stares me down in protest, I decide I’ve finally had enough of her spice over this. I won’t let her hurt herself anymore when I’mperfectly capable of handling the wood myself. She’s apparently forgotten I’ve got a good foot on her and can take this in another direction, which I obviously am going to have to do with her fighting me on getting her beautiful butt back inside.
“Woman,” it leaves me on a growl. Her mouth drops in surprise as red licks up her neck, and I know it’s not from the chilly air. She’s got a rosy nose already from that. “If you don’t get that gorgeous behind back in the house and wash that cut to keep it from getting infected, I’m going to toss you over my shoulder and take you there myself.”
A shocked squeak sound leaves her, then she’s stomping off toward the front porch. It’s the first time today I feel my lips pull into a wide smile. It’s not every day I get to knock Winter off kilter, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it. It’s only fair since each time I’m around her, I feel like I’m in a daze with butterflies swarming around inside my stomach.
The next time we’re in the same room together is when we’ve all sat down for turkey dinner. The house smells absolutely heavenly, with all the food that’s been prepared, along with a few small candles burning. I’d bet they’re the same candles Winter made from last year’s festival that Mom gushed over repeatedly. I had back-to-back games, so I was too busy traveling with the team and couldn’t make it home. Mom was quick to fill me in on everything I missed, and I ended up flying her to my place for a couple of days. She stayed with me for Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the day after, but then it was back to work for me. The team got lucky this year with a lighter schedule right around the holidays, though I doubt it’ll be the case next year as well.
Winter fidgets beside me once we’re finished saying grace, drawing my attention to her once more. It took everything in me earlier not to lean in and kiss her when she was against the wall. She’s never looked more enticing than in that moment,but I somehow managed to refrain. Then there was the incident outside with her huffing and puffing over me, telling her to come back inside, and Lord help me, but I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and show her just how strong and capable I truly am. One of these days, I’m not going to have enough willpower to stop myself from leaning in and tasting the gloss she has on her lips. I have a feeling that’ll be the same day my life changes for good, because there’s no way I’d ever be able to give her up again.
“How’s the cut?” I ask right off the bat, hoping she had the sense to show it to her mom.
She grabs the mashed potatoes, plopping down a large dollop with more force than necessary while shooting me a half-glower. I’m guessing she hasn’t mentioned it, and now that she’s been called out, she’s silently telling me to keep my mouth shut. Too bad for her, because there’s no such luck. Nope, I fully intend on taking advantage of this dinner with her parents and grandparents present. For starters, I don’t want the old man thinking he can scare me away from Winter like he did the last time. I was determined not to take anything from her future, but that time’s over now. She’s had her chance at going to college and doing whatever else she may’ve wanted to experience young. Now, however, she’s fair game as far as I’m concerned.
“Fine, thanks for asking. It was nothing serious,like I said.” She grumbles, passing me the bowl of potatoes. I add some to my plate as her mother zeroes in on her.
