Let It Snow

by Cassie Cross

  He reaches around me and hums his approval as he scrolls down the page to look at his options.

  “There’s this leather sofa, that has a deep seat and is raised up high enough for a giant like you with long legs to be comfortable sitting on. And the bonus is that it’s just the right size to fit on the long wall where your Murphy bed would be.”

  He tears his eyes away from the computer until they land on me. “How did you get the measurements?”

  “I called your broker and asked for them.”

  This look of adoration washes across his face, because I know he for sure wouldn’t have thought to do that.

  “It has a matching ottoman that you can use as a coffee table and stretch out on when you watch football.”

  “I like it,” he says.

  It’s rugged-looking comfortable leather, so I know no matter how hard on it he is, it’ll hold up. “I found this height adjustable desk that’s a lot cheaper than the competitors but still has great reviews, and there’s a dining room table that has these bar chairs that tuck under it. There’s a little ledge on there so that short people have a place to put their feet while also still being comfortable for you.”

  “You thought of everything, huh?”

  “I had to, didn’t I? I will never let you forget the giant particle board spool you used as a coffee table when you moved into your first apartment.”

  He laughs. “That thing really was hideous.”

  “It was a crime that cannot be repeated. And because your kitchen is teeny tiny, I found this rolling island that’ll fit perfectly right outside the door. You can put a microwave on top, and a tree at Christmas.”

  Josh lets out this soft, affectionate laugh. “A tree? I never had one in my nine-hundred square-foot apartment in Austin, but I’m gonna have one in my four-hundred square-foot studio in New York?”

  I look at him like he’s grown a second head. “Of course.”

  There’s that laugh again. “Always planning for the necessities, huh.”

  I shrug. “I thought about how scared I’d be moving to a new place with absolutely nothing and I made you the kind of home that I thought would make you happy. That of course includes comfy furniture for giants and a few reminders of your favorite person two thousand miles away. What’s a better reminder of me than a lil’ Christmas tree on the rolling island I picked out for you.”

  When I look over at him, all the air gets sucked out of my lungs. His eyes are soft but intense, the room charged with this energy that sets my nerves on fire.

  If I didn’t know any better, I could swear that Josh wants to kiss me. But I need to get foolish thoughts like that out of my head, so I turn back to my laptop.

  It takes a minute or two, but he eventually says, “Tell me about the bed again?”

  Thankful for a task to get my mind off of jumping him, I pull up the site I have bookmarked. Josh’s eyes stay trained on me, but I keep talking anyway, pretending not to notice.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, we’re definitely getting a little stir crazy. We’re stuck in that place between doing everything you can possibly do while trapped in a hotel room and knowing that we’ll be free in the morning.

  It’s agony.

  Josh and I start doing what we always do on a lazy day. He’s sprawled out on the bed reading a book he’d brought with him. It’s something that I’ve seen around his house a few times over the past month, so I know he can’t be that into it since it’s taken him so long to read. I’m laying in the opposite direction with my head propped up on his stomach killing time on my phone.

  I alternate between texting Halle—who’s hounding me for details about the trip, insisting I’m not telling her the whole story—and watching videos on YouTube. I’ve fallen down into this dark hole of watching people organize their pantries. I think I’ve been at this for—no lie—at least three hours.

  A few times during the day we hear plows making their way down the main road. The parking lot is still covered in enough snow that we wouldn’t be able to make it out, but Anne assured us that it’d be clear by morning. She also promised she’d make sure the plow guy, who also happens to be the cook at the restaurant, left a clear path out for the SUV.

  I’ve decided this place is getting a five-star rating on every single travel site I can find.

  Josh’s mom calls halfway through my pantry-cleaning marathon, and I listen to his side of the conversation. She’s glad we’re safe, can’t wait to see us. Josh passes along the message that his mom thinks me surprising my parents will be the greatest gift I could’ve given them.

  The whole Abbott family is full of cheeseballs, and I love them all.

  When dinnertime rolls around, I get ready for it like it’s an event. I feel like I haven’t worn makeup in ages, even though it’s been about three days. I just need something to do, man.

  I set up shop on the desk, and I catch Josh watching me put on my mascara, probably because he’s bored out of his skull and likes to make mascara faces at me sometimes. He’s probably trying to pick up new material for the next time he wants to make fun of me while I’m doing it. After my makeup’s done, I head into the bathroom, plug in my neglected curling iron and make rolling waves in my hair. Now that I’m in a humidity free environment, I can actually manage to do something with it.

  I slip into a pair of jeans and a sweater that I wore yesterday, because I’ve pretty much gone through everything I brought with me at this point. I didn’t bring any perfume with me because it irritates my mom’s allergies, so I put on some vanilla and almond scented lotion.

  When I go back out into the room, Josh is all ready to go in a pair of jeans and a henley.

  It’s nice to get out and do something, even if that something is just walking over to the hotel’s restaurant for some possibly questionable poultry. Josh stands up when he catches sight of me, and for a second it feels like all the air is sucked out of the room.

  His gaze drifts from my face to my shoes and back again. “You look beautiful,” he says.

  My heart trips over itself and slams into my ribcage, making my breath catch. It really is something, being on the receiving end of a compliment from Josh Abbott.

  “Thank you.”

  He helps me slide on my coat, and waits while I zip it up.

  “Ready?”

  I nod.

  He holds the door open, and we walk over to the restaurant together. Weirdly, it feels like a date, even though I know it’s not. It’s a sea change, a shift in something that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  Inside, there are only two tables which are surprisingly occupied by other people. The counter is open save for two seats at the very end, taken up by two older guys nursing a couple of beers.

  We order our meals from a sweet waitress named June. I order a Coke, and Josh gets a local IPA. We both ask for the turkey special, which includes cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and stuffing.

  “No green stuff,” I whisper to Josh.

  He tilts his head back and laughs.

  “Is it weird that I’m gonna miss this place when we leave? I mean, it’s a totally random place; I wouldn’t have ever chosen to come here, I’ve only seen a hotel room and a restaurant in it, but…it has a place in my heart?”

  He smiles at me indulgently. “Maybe we should try to make it up here sometime when there isn’t a blizzard in the forecast.”

  “Yeah, we definitely want to avoid all blizzards if possible. Although this one hasn’t been that bad, not that I’m eager to experience another one or anything.”

  “It hasn’t been the worst, though, right? I suppose if I had to be holed up in a motel room with another person, you’re at the top of and probably the only person on the list of people I’d choose.”

  I playfully tap my shoulder with his. “You’re my top and only, too.”

  “I’m sorry we’re gonna have to do our department store window tour after Christmas.”

  I shrug. “It doesn’
t matter. I’ll still get to see them, and just for the torture of having to wait, maybe I’ll treat myself with some street meat.”

  Josh retches. He’s always been very, very anti-hot dog cart, so I make it a point to indulge in them whenever he’s around.

  “Absolutely not. I will take you literally anywhere else you want to go if you promise you won’t eat any meat of a questionable origin.”

  “Anywhere else?” I ask, testing my boundaries.

  “Anywhere.”

  I tap my chin dramatically. “Hmm… I just might take you up on that offer.”

  When our dinner comes, we eat while we make plans for what we’re going to see in the city. I made a list of a few places I want to stop by to get him some reasonably priced things for his new apartment.

  After dinner, June talks us into splitting a piece of pumpkin pie, which turns out to be an amazing decision.

  While Josh is paying the bill at the register, one of the guys at the end of the bar walks over to me. He’s drunk and pretty much every woman alive has had a man walk over to them with that glint in their eyes.

  It’s a look that mace was invented for. I’m just about to get up, when—

  “You’re really beautiful. I’ve got a quarter for the jukebox with your name on it, sweetie.”

  Gross. And also I don’t think there’s a jukebox in here?

  “No thank you,” I say firmly. “I’m here with someone.”

  He is unsurprisingly undeterred. “You came with him, but you can leave with me.”

  “Mmm, no, I don’t think I will.”

  He reaches for the crook of my elbow, when Josh steps between us and smacks his arm away. “You really don’t want to touch her without her permission.”

  Josh is the teddiest of teddy bears, until you mess with someone he loves. This guy is about to find out.

  “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

  “You don’t wanna find out. Leave her alone.” He turns to me and takes my hand. “You ready?”

  That’s when this drunken idiot cold clocks Josh, right on the cheek. In a flash, he grabs this guy’s collar and lifts him up, slamming him against the glass front of the diner.

  The guy instantly sobers up, and raging fear flashes in his eyes. That’s when his dinner companion rushes over and apologizes for his friend.

  “I’m sorry, he’s just had a little too much to drink. I’ll take him home to dry out.”

  “See that you do.”

  The guy pulls his friend away, while Josh stands there and rubs his hand over his face. “C’mon,” he says, taking my hand.

  We walk at a steady clip back to the room. Once we’re inside, Josh takes off his jacket and tosses it on the chair. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” I say, leading him over to the edge of the bed. “But it looks like he hurt you.”

  There’s an angry red welt on his cheek. I go into the bathroom and grab a washcloth, then wrap a handful of ice out of the bucket Josh filled earlier inside it.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he says, when I place the makeshift icepack on his cheek, but he lets me baby him anyway. He’s breathing heavily, probably in need of a calming presence around.

  “Thanks for defending my honor,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

  He lets out a huff of a laugh without any humor behind it.

  This wave of tenderness washes over his face, a rawness that I haven’t really seen in his eyes before. Something about it makes me cup his cheek in my hand, and his eyes flutter shut before he tilts his head, welcoming the touch.

  His hands come up and grip my hips, his thumb brushing the exposed skin between the waist of my jeans and the hem of my sweater. His head falls forward, forehead resting in the valley between my breasts.

  Instinctively, I slide my fingers through his hair, letting my nails graze his scalp.

  He shudders.

  “What do you need?” I ask, confused by the giant shift in the room, of this overwhelming sense of possibility in the moment.

  He lifts his head, eyes half lidded.

  “To kiss you,” he replies.

  Like any good friend, I give him what he needs: a soft brush of my lips against his that makes every cell in my body cry out for more of him. He deepens the kiss, running his fingers through my hair to hold me closer. It’s the best I’ve ever had, all I’ve ever wanted, so easy to get lost in it.

  And we do, for minutes, for hours, I don’t know. However long it is, it’ll never be enough. He pulls me onto his lap, and I hold onto him for dear life as our tongues brush together, hot and slow. I kiss my way down to his neck, where I pay special attention to that spot on the underside of his jaw. It pulls a sound out of him that I’ve never heard before, but I’m determined to figure out all the different ways I can get him to make it again.

  When we part, gasping, we just stare at each other breathlessly. All of a sudden, all the looks and touches I’ve written off as nothing connect the dots to make a picture that I’ve never seen before.

  This isn’t one-sided. At all.

  The realization fills me with a confidence that I haven’t felt before, and reach for the bottom of my sweater. I slowly peel it off, watch the way Josh’s eyes follow the path of newly revealed skin.

  He doesn’t wait a single second to touch, to kiss, to explore every inch of me. He unclasps my bra and caresses the underside of my breast with the backs of his fingers, then tastes one nipple, then the other. Then he brings his warm, rough palm to rest right above my heart.

  He gives me this lopsided smile when he feels the way it beats for him. He takes my hand and puts it right above his heart, where I feel a similar erratic thump.

  I give him a lopsided smile right back. And in that crackling moment where we’re both sitting there with our hands on each other’s hearts, I want nothing more than to be as close to this man as I can possibly get. It’s an urge, a need, something I simply must do. Clothes have to go, so I stand up and quickly get rid of the rest of the ones that I have on.

  Josh stands too, probably meaning to take off his pants, but too distracted by watching me do it to make a move. I laugh a little, giddy, and go for his button and zipper. I hook my fingers along the waistband of his jeans and his…boxer briefs—good to know—and get rid of those as quickly as possible. His erection springs free and finally getting to look at him like this steals the breath right out of me.

  He’s gorgeous, not that I ever dared to imagine otherwise. He steps out of his pants and kicks them to the side, sitting down and pulling me back on his lap in one smooth move.

  Only now there’s nothing but skin on skin, the feeling of his heavy breath across my breasts, and the welcome hardness of him right between my thighs.

  I buck my hips a little, just to tease him. But I’m far beyond teasing myself, so I just sink down on him, a delicious stretch, and hold on tight as he buries his face in my neck. It’s a moment twenty-six years in the making, so we take our time. We kiss long and slow, rock our hips together and build that delicious feeling up, up, up. I can’t get enough of his taste, his touch, his smell. I can finally breathe him in as much as I want to, and I take advantage of it.

  He desperately whispers my name every time I find just the right spot, and before long the two of us are a couple of live wires, ready to ignite with just a simple touch. Every move is deliciously grueling, and we both want—need—more.

  Josh wraps his arm around my back and gently lowers me to the bed, never breaking our connection. He settles into the cradle of my hips, hitting deep, and I wrap my legs around him to hold him close. He kisses me tenderly, then laces the fingers of one hand through mine, and brings the other to right where I need it. He knows just how to touch me, and before long I’m spiraling, giving in to the pleasure that spikes with every move of his body against mine. It rushes out to every nerve ending in my body and circuits back overwhelming me with sensation.

  I’m almost too lost to notice the way he loses the rhythm, de
sperately snapping his hips against mine. I grab on tight as his body stiffens, and hold him while he comes.

  He holds me after, pressing soft kisses to my lips and holding me like a precious thing. We have a lot to talk about, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

  Tonight, I just want to lie here in his arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Josh and I wake up at various points during the night, too hungry for each other to sleep for longer than a couple of hours. We finally fully exhaust ourselves around 5, which is probably the reason why we oversleep.

  By a lot.

  Instead of getting woken up by an alarm clock, I’m woken up by loud, insistent knocking on the door. I spring up like a zombie recently raised from the dead in a horror movie, then frantically search for something to put on. Josh’s sweater is closest, so I pull that over my head. It’s long enough to cover everything, so it’ll have to do.

  I unchain the door and open it up to a rather stern-looking housekeeper with a cart of fresh linens behind her.

  “Hi,” I say, squinting against the bright sun shining off the mounds of plow-piled snow in the parking lot.

  “Check out’s at eleven,” she says, in this angry rote voice indicating we are not the first people she’s had to remind of this.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. We overslept. Give us ten minutes and we’ll be out of your way.”

  She just grumbles and pushes her cart to the next room over.

  Josh is standing on the side of the bed, looking all sleep-sexy with ruffled hair and pillow marks on his cheek. He has, unfortunately, put on pants. I guess it’s for the best, because the last thing I need is to be distracted.

  Seems like that’s not really an issue for him though, with the hungry way he’s looking at me in his henley.

  “It’s past eleven,” I tell him, because clearly the housekeeper’s warning hasn’t really hit home yet. “We’ve gotta get going if we want to get home at a decent hour.” At this rate we’ll be lucky to get back by dinner.