Snow One Like You by Kate Angell Page A

gentle parting of lips. Followed by a hotter claiming.
The thrust of his tongue. Deep and sexual.
    Her heartbeat skipped. Her stomach
went soft. Sensation took her. Into him.
    She shivered, sought his heat. Unable
to get close enough.
    His muscles bunched. His sex
stirred.
    He stepped back. Turned away. To catch
his breath. To adjust himself.
    Neither had spoken. For a long
time.
    Up until soreness set in and she shook
out her hand. He noticed her splinter. And the deep scratch at her
ankle.
    “ Tweezers?” he’d asked.
“Antiseptic and Band-Aids.”
    She’d gone to the medicine cabinet;
returned. He’d played doctor, cleaning and bandaging the cut on her
ankle, then holding her hand as he eased out the sliver. Her hand
shook slightly, not from the splinter, but from his nearness.
Seated on a red holiday bench painted with reindeer, he leaned
against her side. Their arms brushed, hips touched, and their
thighs hard-pressed.
    He’d left the store shortly
after surgery , as
he put it. No friendly hug. No backward glance. No wave. Merely
walking stiffly. Allie felt let down. Depressed. Alone.
    She’d touched her lips, time and
again. Remembering their kiss. Nothing had been the same since.
Whenever Rhys came to the general store for a specific item or
short visit, she’d caught him staring at her. Not as pals. There
was desire in the hard lines of his face. Curious and intense. A
man wanting a woman. Yet he kept his distance.
    She was as mindful of him as he was of
her. He’d enter Hartley’s, and, with her back to him, she sensed
where he was, what he was doing, without looking. They shared the
silly awkwardness of teenagers. After their kiss.
    She missed their laughter and
lightheartedness. She wanted to turn back the clock to a less
complicated time. She was not successful. They’d kissed. Tasted
each other. That moment brought them to today.
    They cautiously moved forward. Minute
by minute. She licked her lips, and his gaze touched on the tip of
her tongue. “What brought you down the mountain?” she finally
asked.
    He lifted the visor on his helmet.
Didn’t miss a beat. “I needed ChapStick.”
    She knew he was joking. Knew there had
to be more. “And?”
    “ Your mother tried to call
the store. Your iPhone’s dead.”
    “ No signal for several
hours now.” Her parents were on vacation. In sunny Florida. They
would be tracking the blizzard. And be worried about
her.
    “ Gloria rang the lodge
next,” he informed her. “We have minimal reception. Spotty, at
best. She asked that I check on you. She wanted to be sure you were
safe.”
    She appreciated her mom’s concern. But
hated to be Rhys’ responsibility. He’d saved her butt numerous
times over the years. Taking her to a school dance when her date
caught the flu. Changing a flat tire for her in the middle of the
night. Dragging her out of a snowdrift when she’d lost control of
her sled. He’d always been there for her. As a buddy. Now was
different. Nothing was the same. Except the mistletoe pinned to the
rafter. It teased, taunted. Suggested sex.
    “ I’m fine,” she assured
him.
    “ I had to see for
myself.”
    He rolled the backpack off his
shoulders. Hung it on a peg by the door. He pulled off his thermal
gloves, then removed his head gear. He gave her a good, long look.
She stared back. The chin guard had left a red mark. His brown hair
spiked. He had a wide forehead, light blue eyes, blade-sharp
cheekbones, and solid jaw.
    “ How did you manage to get
here?” she asked. Travel conditions were at their worst.
    Rhys was a professional ski instructor
at his family’s winter lodge. The two-lane road from Forest Ridge
to Snowbound was impassable. Surely he hadn’t skied into town. It
would’ve been too dark, too dangerous. Even if he had daredevil in
him, and was prone to taking chances.
    “ Snowmobile,” he answered.
“Guy Nash dropped me off. He was at the lodge having dinner when
the weather worsened. Police Department is on