“You did that on purpose,” he said, more for his sake than hers, keeping things light. Because heaven knew his heart was not thinking light things.
“Me?” She met his gaze, grinning. “I’d like to see the replay on that.”
“I think the officials would see it my way.” He reached with his gloved hand and brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Why is that?”
“Because we’ve been down here for about thirty seconds now, and you’re still on top of me.” His breath wavered as she stilled, watching him with those pale green eyes. He couldn’t look away. One thing was certain, his face wasn’t cold anymore.
He willed his arms to be still, willed his heart to stop thumping so wildly. “Didn’t you want to see how the angels look?” he asked, his voice husky.
They were both still breathing hard, her gaze locked on his, when she suddenly scrambled off him, pushing herself up and brushing snow off her legs and arms. He rolled to his knees and took a deep breath. He looked over at their snow angels and stood.
“What do you think?” he asked, feeling cold where she used to be.
She was brushing off her backside, turning in a slow circle as if that would help her get it all. “I think I really need pie.”
“No,” he said, laughing. “What do you think of the snow angels?”
She stopped her dance and looked over their creations. Two clear snow angels floated next to each other on the slope. “They look good, don’t they?”
“Yep.”
“I can’t remember the last time I made those.” She looked up at him. “Thanks. That was fun. All of it.” She looked behind him. “Don’t forget that one.” She smiled before hurrying into the warm house.
He glanced at the mess of an impression they’d made where they’d fallen together. “That one’s my favorite,” he murmured, and followed her inside.
While Cal and Yvette played a game of gin in the dining room, Riley sat on the carpet, warming herself in front of the woodstove as she leaned back against the couch. The football game was on, and two empty pie plates and forks sat on the floor next to her. She was acutely aware of Mark stretched out behind her.
She’d have felt utterly content if it weren’t for two things. One, playing with Mark in the snow had turned her inside out and upside down, and even now her heart beat harder with the nearness of him, and two, she couldn’t stop worrying about what people might think about her time spent with him, especially if rumors were spreading.
“Mark?” she asked, almost not wanting to.
“Hm?” He sounded drowsy, and she felt his fingers briefly tousle her hair.
She turned and sure enough, his eyes were closed. He lay on his right side, his hat off, his face relaxed. She could almost see him whole, a man without a care in the world.
He rolled onto his back, slowly blinking his eyes open underneath dark brows. They furrowed. “Hey. You okay?”
In that moment, that brief glimpse of before and after, she wanted to tell him he was beautiful, either way. Before and after. Would he ever see that?
She settled on her knees. “I think I should go.”
He lifted himself up on one elbow and pushed his hand through his mess of dark hair. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s getting late.”
“It’s, like, six.”
“Six thirty.”
His brows rose. “Wow, that’s almost midnight.”
His sarcasm didn’t faze her.
He sat up and patted the space next to him. She obeyed, folding her legs beneath her, the warmth from the woodstove replaced with the warmth of his body heat where he’d been dozing. He placed his arm behind her, resting it across her lower back.
“Talk,” he said.
She glanced toward the easy banter coming from the dining room and the commercial on the TV. Mark moved to turn it off, but she stopped him.
“No, I’d rather have the noise,” she said. She sighed and spoke quietly. “This has been really nice.”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” That was partly true. Her determination to keep her distance was a quivering pile of jelly, and she didn’t like it.
“It’s Thanksgiving. You’re supposed to eat all our food and take advantage of our hospitality.”
She smiled. “Is that right?”
He nodded, then his gaze swept the room, and he frowned. “You’re bored.”
“No, it’s not that. Like I said, it’s been really nice.”
“Then don’t go.” He swept his hand softly across her shoulders.
“Okay.”
He chuckled. “That was easy.”
It was too easy. The afternoon had reminded her of those few holidays she’d spent as a child in Montana. Easy, family days with shoes off and dirty dishes on the floor and snow falling outside. No fighting.
“What would you like to do?” he asked. “Play a game? Map out the next move on your house?” He tugged at a lock of her hair and arched his brow. “Make more snow angels?”
She smiled. Curse the snow angels. “I thought you were embarrassed making those.”
He still played with the lock of her hair. “They weren’t so bad. Some of us could use all the angels we can get.”
She nodded, unsure if she believed in angels. Hers had been mysteriously absent at the times when she could’ve used some.
His hand stilled, as if realizing he’d been playing with her hair. His gaze lifted to hers, and he studied her. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Her face grew warm. In one move, he could lean forward, lift her face to his, and kiss her. As if he read her thoughts, his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“You kids still alive in there?” Cal called out from the dining room.
Riley blinked, and Mark dropped her hair. “No,” he answered. “Pie overdose.”
Riley fell back against the couch and drew her knees up.
“How’s the game?” Cal called again.
“Somebody’s losing,” Mark answered. He stood and stretched with his back to her.
Riley pressed her hand to her warm neck. Her pulse flitted like a hummingbird.
“Somebody here is winning,” Yvette said.
