“So he wanted it enough to steal. How does that let him off the hook?”
“My point is, I think you’re being extra hard on him because it’s nail polish.”
Out of nowhere, the thought came—he wanted her to touch him again. He shoved it aside. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re freaking out because he’s a boy and he took nail polish. Just like you wouldn’t let me dye his hair.”
Finally Zander put it all together. He gave a short bark of laughter. Ironically, it eased the tension inside him.
And there it came—another touch from Gretel. This time, she swatted him lightly on the arm. “Why is that funny?”
He caught her hand and held it against his chest. Not for any reason other than he wanted to feel it there. “The first time Petey watched a YouTube makeup tutorial, I asked him why he was so interested in it. He said he was curious, and I should butt out. So I did.”
She curled her hand against his chest, but didn’t pull away. “And?”
“Petey’s kind of…an explorer. And he’s a kid. He’s going to be who he’s going to be. Gay, straight, something else, whatever. That’s not my job.”
Finally she tugged her hand away from his chest. He still felt an electric tingle where it had rested. “What is, then?”
“My job is to make sure he’s safe and doesn’t break any laws while he’s figuring shit out.”
She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. He couldn’t help tracking that pink bit of flesh. What did the rest of her body look like under all those layers of winter clothing?
“What about the man at Eller’s? I saw his face when he saw the nail polish.”
“That guy’s a dick. Always has been.”
“I basically accused him of being homophobic.”
He grinned. “You’re not wrong. Better you said it than me.”
One corner of her mouth lifted, then the other. It was a glorious process, watching those fresh-petal lips curve into a mischievous, dazzling smile.
And maybe he should stop staring at her mouth right about now.
“I think you might be telling the truth,” she murmured.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t lie.”
“Okay, then why won’t you let him dye his hair? That didn’t involve any kind of law-breaking. If he’s trying to figure out—”
He cut her off with a gesture. “No hair dye. No nail polish.”
“And no explanation?”
“No explanation.” The finality in his voice made her beautiful smile vanish.
Seeing it go created an empty ache in his heart, but what could he do? He couldn’t tell her about the caseworker’s veiled threat. He didn’t even know the full situation yet.
Maybe you can trust Gretel. The thought came out of the blue.
He considered it. She’d come to Petey’s rescue. She’d handled the situation at Eller’s pretty damn well. She obviously cared about Petey.
He wanted to trust her. He wanted to talk to her. He liked talking to her—even though he wasn’t generally a big talker. With Gretel it was different. Why not just take the leap and explain about Susan Baker?
Unless…what if this was his dick talking? Gretel was outrageously attractive to him. When she was around, he always knew exactly where she was—as if he could sixth-sense her location. His ears picked up her voice quicker than any other sound, as if he was tuned to her specific vocal frequency. It was weird.
How was he supposed to make good decisions about someone who scrambled his brain as much as Gretel did? He wanted her, bad. His cock was already partially hard just from this conversation—and it wasn’t even a sexy one.
If he trusted her enough to tell her about the caseworker, things would change between them. They’d probably get closer.
But he couldn’t sell out his family’s secrets just to get a smile from Gretel.
He had responsibilities and they came first.
“Okay then.” She whirled around, her blue fur coat swinging behind her. His gaze dropped to her ass, which was encased in a clinging skirt that barely came to her thighs. Under that she wore thick wool leggings and zebra-print boots and damn, the sexy sight could bring a guy to tears. “I guess I’ll go now. Good luck and all.”
“Gretel,” he called after her, making her pause in mid-flight. “Thank you. Really. I owe you one.”
She shot him a quick, unreadable glance, and disappeared out the door.
He let out a long rush of breath and adjusted his jeans. Damn. He needed to get a grip on this attraction before it got him into trouble.
But still—he did owe Gretel. And he knew just how to thank her.
Chapter Nine
A few days after the shoplifting incident, Gretel padded out in her panda slippers from the guest room she inhabited at the Noonans’. They’d gone to great lengths to make it as comfy as possible for her—they’d acquired a queen-size bed, bought her an electric heater, and even added an extra router so she could get Wi-Fi in her room.
Earl was back from the North Slope, which meant that she didn’t have to get up early and help Eli get off to school. When Earl was here, she was able to work more shifts at the Wicked Brew and do things like practice her snowshoeing.
She could drink coffee made by someone else for once. Which she enjoyed to the max, especially when Earl splurged on the high-end coffee beans he loved.
After pouring herself a mug, she petted Groovy for a while, then wandered into the playroom, where the toddlers were knocking over a set of blocks and laughing hysterically. They really knew how to keep each other entertained. Abby sat in a rocking chair, nursing the baby and keeping an eye on the toddlers.
“Is Earl on car-pool duty?”
“Morning shift only. He’ll be home soon.”
Gretel shivered and wrapped her long angora sweater around her. It had a unicorn on the back and she loved its silky warmth. It was so comfy that it worked as a kind of shield against hurtful things like Zander shutting her out.
“Are you chilly?” Abby asked right away. “I haven’t checked the fire in a while, would you mind? After that you should help yourself to the coffee cake Earl made. He’s having fun playing homemaker, the big beast.”
The affection on her voice took any hint of sting out of her words. No one who knew Abby and Earl had any doubt about their love for each other, but they did have a rough-edged way of showing it sometimes.
Gretel shuffled into the living room and added a log to the fire. The last log.
Darn it. She’d have to go out into the deep freeze to collect some more. Wasn’t Earl supposed to do that sort of thing when he was here?
She spotted the coffee cake, still in its pan on the kitchen counter. He’d used some of the currants that the family had gathered in the fall. The cake’s warm aroma made her mouth water and her grumbling disappear.
“All is forgiven, Earl,” she murmured under her breath. She cut a small square and popped it into her mouth, then wandered into the arctic entry. After kicking off her slippers, she stuck her feet into her boots and sorted through the coats looking for one of hers.
Finally she located her blue faux fur and pulled it on over her fuzzy pajamas. Yawning, she pushed open the door that led outside and right away realized her mistake. Cold air blasted right into her mouth. She slammed the door and snapped her mouth shut.
“Everything okay?” Abby called.
“Peachy!” she croaked.
She was definitely awake now. Every nerve tingled from the shock of that elemental collision between her and the outside air.
It must have dropped below zero.
She grabbed a scarf—Eli’s, she believed—and tried again. This time she angled her body sideways so that she wasn’t getting the full blast head on.
“Wooooh,” she called into the bitter wind as soon as she’d made it outside. “Let’s do this! Bring it, baby. Bring it!”
The wind answered with a howl. It t
ugged at the scarf, bit at her cheeks—but not in an attacking way. It felt more like an exuberant dog—Groovy. Like a wild, barely trained force of nature begging her to play with it.
“Okay, I’m here, aren’t I? Gotta make this quick, though. Unless you want to blow a few sticks of wood out of that shed for me.” She murmured the words into Eli’s scarf to avoid another episode of wind-down-her-windpipe.
Leaning into the full force of the wind, she trudged down the path to the woodshed. Please cooperate, she silently begged the sled. Just this once. I’ll be extra nice to you. I’ll take you down a real hill for fun instead of making you work all the time.
God, she was so silly, talking to a sled. Smiling at her own absurdity, she took the last step into the woodshed and stopped short. The wind whistled through the planks of the shed as she blinked whirling snow out of her eyes.
The orange plastic sled was gone. Nowhere to be seen.
A sleek new sled had taken its place. It had actual metal runners, polished wooden boards, and vintage writing on the side. “Flame Runner,” was its name.
“Well, look at you, handsome stranger,” she murmured. Here in the shed, she couldn’t feel the buffeting of the wind, and didn’t mind speaking out loud again. “Where did you come from? Did Earl find you?”
Then she spotted an envelope wedged between two of the sled’s slats. She tugged it out and saw that it was addressed to her.
“This doesn’t count as ‘help’ because I owe you. Found this at the dump and restored it. It’s a classic. Enjoy, it’s yours.”
It was signed with a big Z.
Wow. This was Zander’s handiwork? She ran a hand over the smooth fine-grained wood with its perfect sheen of varnish. She knew about his woodworking projects—but she hadn’t realized that he had this kind of skill. The sled was a work of art. Having grown up with expensive things, she knew how to recognize quality. This was top-of-the-line meticulous craftsmanship, on the part of both the original creator and the loving restorer.
It was almost too beautiful to pile full of wood. But the cold was creeping in around the edges of her coat, so she set aside that worry and set the sled—more of a toboggan, really—onto the snowpack.
It stayed right where it was supposed to, sturdy and solid, its own weight keeping it from squirreling all over the place the way the plastic sled used to. Quickly she loaded it with several armloads of firewood, until it was filled to the top of its side rails.
Now the big test. She gripped its leash and walked toward the house. With a quiet swish, it followed behind her as sweet as a lamb. Not once did it threaten to tumble over or lunge down the snow bank. On the entire path to the house, not a single stick of wood went overboard.
“Flame Runner, I think I love you,” she sang to it. “I wanna know for sure—”
Up ahead, she spotted Zander emerging from the ski trail that connected the two properties. “Hey, you,” she called.
He changed direction and skied across the yard toward her. “How’s it working?” With his eyes gleaming green against his wind-chapped face, he made her mouth water.
“Like a dream.” She dropped the tether and stepped toward him. She probably looked like a homeless woman in her pajamas and winter gear, but she didn’t care. He was still skiing toward her when she stepped directly into his path. He dropped his ski poles and grabbed her in his arms. His momentum kept them sliding a few more feet.
“Watch where you’re go—” he began, but she cut him off by planting a kiss right on his lips. It was a quick kiss—touch and withdraw—but it felt like a thunderclap. The detonation echoed through her.
They came to a stop but he didn’t release her. He stared down at her with a look of shock. “Was that a thank you or—”
“Of course,” she said lightly, even though her heart was fluttering like a trapped moth. “This sled is my new best friend. It’s beautiful, Zander. Really wonderful. I had no idea you were so talented.”
He lifted one eyebrow, but still didn’t release her. “Do you thank everyone with a kiss on the lips?”
“Maybe I was aiming for that spot right next to your lips. That little scar.” She touched the mark with her mitten. His eyes darkened.
“You still didn’t answer the question.”
“Is this an interrogation? I can take the kiss back if you want.”
His lips quirked. “Then I’d have to take back the sled.”
“I guess you’re stuck with that kiss then.”
“I guess I am.” He tilted his head, considering. “I have more sleds where that came from.”
Oh no. This was trouble. Her insides were starting to melt in a liquid pool of heat. Her nipples were hardening against his chest, though luckily several layers of winter gear separated her from Zander. “Are you ever going to let me go?”
“I’m thinking about that.”
He was so warm, and it felt so good to be held against him while the cold wind whipped around them. Frosty crystals had formed on the hair that curled under the edge of his hat. His head lowered, his lips came closer, she could feel his warm breath on her face. Anticipation flooded her veins in a hot rush.
Then the door of the house opened and Groovy galloped into the yard. She spotted Gretel and Zander and hurtled toward them with her tongue lolling.
Gretel found herself in a controlled slide toward the ground. Zander held her steady as her boots touched the snow. Good thing, because as soon as Groovy reached them, she began running tight little circles around the two of them.
“No, Groovy! You’d better not knock over my new sled!” Gretel cried and rushed to secure her load.
Too late. Curious about the new object, Groovy bumped against the Flame Runner, sniffing and pushing, and somehow got it sliding toward the snowbank.
And once again, there went half her firewood.
First she groaned, but then she had to laugh. Zander was laughing too, as he skied toward the fallen sled.
“You grab Groovy while I get the wood,” he called.
“Groovy! Come here, you wild thing.” When she finally got a hand on her collar, she saw that Zander was already herringboning up the bank, sled in tow.
That took strength. So did holding her in his arms, entirely off the ground, for the eternity it had taken for them to almost kiss.
That almost-kiss was going to haunt her, she could tell already.
“I have bad sled karma, that’s all there is to it,” she said cheerfully as he skied to her side. She took the tether from him and headed for the house.
“I was actually going to see if you wanted to try the sled out on Wolf Pack Hill.”
“Wolf Pack…is that safe?”
He smiled. “It’s the best sledding hill around. It’s supposed to warm up a bit, should be perfect sledding weather.”
She hesitated. Was this a … date? How would she feel about it if it was a date? “It sounds fun, but I have to check my schedule at the Wicked Brew.”
His face shuttered a bit. “Okay. Let us know. Petey in particular is hoping you’ll come.”
Ah. So it wasn’t a date. It was a Ross family outing.
“Tell Eli too. I don’t know if the twins are ready for Wolf Pack Hill, but everyone’s invited.”
And not just a Ross family outing, but the Noonans too. It was for the best. Safer that way.
A gust of wind whirled past her and she shivered. “Let’s plan on it. I’ll bring the hot cocoa. Employee perk from the Wicked Brew. Thanks again for this miraculous magic carpet, Zander!”
She hurried back to the house, the sled in tow, Groovy capering at her heels, a tingling sensation still coursing through her. She assumed it was from the cold, but even later, after she’d warmed up by the fire, it hadn’t left her. Those tingles were entirely Zander Ross-inspired. Damn it.
Chapter Ten
Zander loved all winter sports, from hockey to skiing—he even played with the Lost Harbor Puffins when he had time. He didn’t really consider sledding to b
e a sport. It was a little-kid thing, a way to have fun in the snow, like building a snowman or making snow angels.
But sledding with Gretel Morrison was a completely different kind of experience. She had a way of making everything more fun. With her bright smile and playful lighthearted spirit, she had all the kids laughing and vying for the right to climb into her sled on the first run.
Wolf Pack Hill was perfect for sledding not only because it was long, with the optimal degree of steepness. But also because it was safe; it had been cleared for pastureland at some point, and no trees had ever grown back. There was no possible way for anyone to get hurt sledding Wolf Pack.
At the top of the hill, someone had installed a platform made from four by fours, with a burn barrel mounted on it. On good sledding days, when it wasn’t too cold and there was a good layer of snow, people often gathered here with firewood and thermoses. Someone would start a fire in the burn barrel and the adults would gather around catching up on the news while the kids hurtled down the hill, then slogged back up towing their sleds.
But today, they had the hill to themselves, except for a couple in ski gear enjoying the view. Earl got a fire going in the barrel while Abby nursed the baby in the warm car. Zander unloaded all the sleds he’d brought along; they had a huge collection that they’d gathered over the years, from circular pieces of foam to kick sleds that you could ride upright.
Jason went right for the fastest one and raced to his favorite launch spot on the steeper side of the hill. He went airborne, on his belly, howling like a wolf.
Gretel gasped as she watched him fly through the air. “He knows what he’s doing, right?”
“If there’s snow involved, he knows what he’s doing,” Zander told her. Ever since she’d gotten out of the Noonans’ Tahoe, in her fluffy pink hat and silver insulated jacket, his heart had been doing odd things. Sudden lurches of joy alternating with quiet moments of trying-to-be-reasonable.
“Someone’s waving at you,” Gretel told him, gesturing toward the couple in ski gear.
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