Page 196 of Screwged for Christmas

As a woman who never took a step outside of Texas before today, Ivy’s crash course on a real winter had her insides clenching and her eyebrows nearly frozen to the rims of her glasses. “Holy hell.”

Damon swung his massive leg forward and she either moved her ass or got dragged by the oversized man to the finish line.

“Drink,” he commanded, shoving a plastic shot glass in her hands while his other balanced his side of the tray. It was all she could do to keep up and not lose her grip. They took another step and another, increasing the speed. Faces and voices flashed by and bubbly laughter filled her chest as half of the contents of her glass slipped down her front.

Stings like a thousand needles punched through the worthless barrier of her socks to stab at her feet. Snow sloshed and fanned out but she didn’t let the bite of the cold slow her. His stride ate up two of hers, and she could see he was forced to slow his pace to match her shorter one.

A blow from a gust of wind nearly did them in and threatened to topple their tray, to the gasps of the crowd. “You spill any, we have to go back and start all over again,” Damon warned, eyes zeroed in on the yellow ribbon that fluttered as a marker for the finish line some twenty yards ahead.

She tossed an askance glance in Ethan’s direction. “Damn, that boy can move.” They were gaining on them. “Get it in gear, Savage!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damon switched hands on the tray and wrapped his left arm around her waist, the rough calluses of his fingers worked through the soft cotton of her long johns and played havoc with her imagination. Between the two stark contrasts of intense warmth and cold, she couldn’t pick between shivering and sweating. Tossing the tray and working herself around him or keeping in step.

Their tied leg made the call for her as Damon set their pace.

Three shots down. Bubbles gurgled in the pit of her stomach and she went back for more before her better judgment slammed into her.

Damon’s palm pressed her close until their sides connected, her long johns to his naked skin.

The simple contact ignited a friction between them that made her question her sanity for the one-hundredth time in the last hour.

Damon flinched against her and his grip slipped a little. He stumbled but quickly righted himself, and she tightened her hold on the tray, giving him a couple of seconds to right himself before the team effort ate major snow.

Ivy bit back a curse when she nearly spilled a shot glass as her fingers grew stiff. On the outside, everything felt frozen but on the inside, a furnace roared. She took another shot and propped one to Damon’s lips as he guided them down the street, hands full of her and the tray once again.

Loud whistles and cheers moved them forward, and the cold dulled as the liquid gave her a false sense of warmth. Or it could have been the furnace tied to her that beat back the cold.

Either way, they had three strides on Ethan, but he and his new wife were booking across the cleared path and would be on their tails and fast.

“Shiiiiittttt... faster, Damon, Pick your feet up!” she yelled around a mouthful of whiskey. Her liver would be a shriveled little pickle after this, but damn it, that blue ribbon would be theirs! The race suddenly became less about a new nursery for her sister and more about winning at all costs. She was too competitive to lose and her sister knew that.

Icy wind cut the corner of a building and forced a harsh gasp from her.

Damon didn’t even flinch.

Iced doom approached fast and she had a split second to react.

Ethan had not lied.

Ice stretched across their half of the road. She threw her one empty hand out and prayed to God she didn’t send them back to the starting line.

As she wobbled left and right, fear skated across Damon’s expression the split second she dared a glance. By a sheer miracle, he held them together long enough for her to find her footing on the other side of the slick black patch. Her stomach insisted on rolling with the punch but went forward when she leaned sideways. Her mouth watered as the shots threatened to return, and she scrambled forward and nearly pitched the contents of the tray into the cheering crowd.

“Whoops.”

“What’s wrong, little biscuit? Can’t beat us?” She ignored the taunt and earned an evil laugh from her sister’s brother-in-law that carried over the noise of the crowd.

Damn him. Ethan took two steps to their one.

“Come on, Damon, move it or lose it!”

His sides rumbled with deep laughter and fed into her body. When she had a second she’d revisit that sound and think about how it stroked along her nerves and senses in a way that shouldn’t feel as good as it did.

Damon’s strong grip tightened on her side and she fed on his strength. “I got this. Let’s go!”

Faces and storefronts rushed by in a blur. The finish line came into view and she pushed harder.

“Finish the booze!”

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