Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Ugh, gross,” Maya announced from across the field. “Get a room!”
“We’re literally standing in a public park,” Adrian called back.
“Then get a tent!”
After the snowball war ended in what could generously be called a draw—mostly because everyone was too cold and too covered in snow to keep accurate score—Maya suggested we build a snowman.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m way too cold. These hands are begging for hot chocolate.”
Adrian held up his own hands, showing his damp gloves. His hat was missing—probably buried in a snowbank, thanks to his dramatic performance. “These hands are begging for something too,” he said in a low voice. He bounced his eyebrows at me and opened and closed his fingers as if trying to grab me.
His gloves were trashed. I reached out to grab them and began pulling them off. “Give me these. You can wear mine. They’re nice and warm.”
Adrian looked at me with heart eyes, but before he could say anything, Maya shuddered dramatically. “Ew! I changed my mind about matchmaking the two of you. You’re super cringe.”
I began laughing again—that helpless laughter that seemed to happen more and more around Adrian. When I caught him watching me with another soft smile, my heart did something complicated in my chest.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, but he was already pulling out his phone. “Just… you should smile like that more.”
He showed me the photo he’d captured—me mid-laugh, covered in snow, completely relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen myself in years.
“You look free,” Adrian said quietly.
The words hit me harder than they should have.
Free.
When was the last time I’d felt free? Not just from responsibility or obligation, but free to want something for myself? Free to imagine a future that included more than just surviving day to day?
“C’mere,” I said, grabbing his hand and towing him toward my truck.
We sat on the tailgate, legs swinging, sharing a thermos of cocoa that was spiked with enough peppermint schnapps to warm us from the inside out. The rest of the group was focused on building the world’s gayest snowman, their laughter carrying across the field.
“Today was good,” I said, my knee bumping against Adrian’s. “Really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I turned to look at him, noting the way the cold had flushed his cheeks, how his hair was sticking up at odd angles from his hat. He was beautiful, but more than that, he was here. Present and real and mine…
At least for now.
“You’re good for me, Adrian. This… whatever this is between us. I want it.”
Something flickered across his face—pleasure, but also something that looked almost like pain.
“You okay?” I asked, reaching out to touch his cheek.
“Just tired,” he said, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Too much hot chocolate, not enough sleep.”
It was true we hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Every time we drifted off, one of us would shift and wake the other, and then wandering hands would turn into another heated encounter until the sheets were on the floor and our breath fogged the windows by my bed. It was like we were caught in an unspoken race against time, trying to wring every last drop of happiness from the moments we spent together.
But whatever was troubling Adrian now seemed like something more. Something different.
Before I could question him further, Maya called us back over to help with some finishing touches on our snow sculpture, and the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and stolen touches.
Later, we separated only long enough to shower and change before I dropped Maya off at a friend’s and picked Adrian up for his eleventh date, this one for a drinks tasting at Timber.
Alex Marian had come up with several options, including a whiskey flight, several wine flights, and a holiday-themed cocktail flight. The plan was for us to walk over to Timber and for Adrian to come back to my place afterward so neither of us had to drive after drinking.
When he got in the truck, I was shocked to see him wearing one of my flannel shirts.
“Speechless,” he said with a chuckle. “Who knew all it took to get you to stop grumbling was to steal the shirt off your back.”
The wash-worn flannel was a plaid mix of red, green, and cream. He’d rolled up the sleeves, exposing strong forearms sprinkled with golden-blond hair. “You look…” I swallowed. “Holy fuck. Can we go inside for a minute?”
His eyes danced in the dashboard lights. “We can’t be late for the tasting. Alex said he was mixing up something special for me.”
“I’ll mix something special for you,” I teased as I leaned forward and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in for a hard kiss across the center console. When I finally let him go, I kept him close and leaned our foreheads together. “Not that I don’t want to eat you in that shirt, but I thought you were supposed to wear Nordique stuff.”