Cal groaned. “Mark, pick a board game and you two get in here. My ego’s taking a beating.”
“Be there in a minute.” Mark faced Riley, his hands at his hips.
She peered up at him, reading the question in his eyes. She spoke barely above the noise. “I’m complicated.”
“You’re not the only one.”
He reached out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. Before he let go of her hand, he pulled her closer, leaning down to her ear.
“Complicated or not,” he whispered, “I’m thankful you’re here.”
Riley swallowed, and he turned to a game cabinet and grabbed a few boxes.
“It’s a shame, really,” he said, “that I’m going to have to mop the floor with you now.”
She smiled, her chin lifting. She eyed the boxes he’d chosen. “It’s going to be fun seeing you try.”
Mark trudged out to Riley’s car, carrying her now-clean dishes she’d brought her food in. He set them in her car, brushed the snow off her windows, then trudged back to the house, where Riley was saying goodbye to his dad and Yvette.
He’d lost. Three games. But Yahtzee was a game of chance, so that one didn’t count, right? It felt like it counted. He opened the door as Riley turned to meet him, and just behind her, he caught his dad taking Yvette’s hand and pressing a kiss to it.
He froze at the unexpected gesture, then spun away before his dad found him watching. Riley walked past him.
“Walk her to the car, Mark,” his dad said, before closing the front door.
“Mark?”
Distracted, he felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Earth to Mark.”
He nodded and took her elbow. It had been snowing lightly the last couple of hours, and the walk was slick again.
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” She peeked up at him. “Was it? I mean, you seemed to enjoy my victory dance, at least.”
He suppressed the smile that came with the memory of her final Yahtzee, how she’d danced, whooping and bumping her hip into his shoulder as he slumped in his chair. He’d wanted to grab her and sit her down in his lap and kiss her until she retracted her win.
But he couldn’t do that.
He looked back at the door.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
She was already shivering. It was late, and he’d kept the woodstove stoked all night because she’d seemed so chilled after snowmobiling. But still, she looked at him, waiting for him to explain why he suddenly couldn’t think straight.
He began walking again, taking her hand through his elbow. “I think I saw my dad kiss Yvette when he thought we weren’t looking.”
Her eyes widened. He stopped at her car.
“He kissed her? Just now?”
“On her hand, yeah.”
“On her hand?” She smiled. “I can believe that.”
“You can?” He couldn’t shake the image, or the confusion it was causing him.
She pulled his elbow closer. “They get along really well. It was a good evening. That’s all.”
He looked down at her in the light from the porch. “You think that was it?”
She nodded. “Remember when you kissed me?”
“Uh—” His pulse ticked up as his brain scrambled.
“You kissed me on the cheek when I agreed to help you. Remember?”
He had. He’d kissed her.
“Your dad’s a gentleman. And Yvette likes him.”
“She does?” That was news to him.
“Yes. You couldn’t see that?”
“I wasn’t paying much attention to Yvette.”
She turned to him, a smirk on her face. “What were you paying attention to?”
He met her gaze. “Mostly how to keep you from leaving.”
“Well, you succeeded. I stayed for all of Thanksgiving.”
That wasn’t what he meant, but he wasn’t in the mood to point it out to her. “I hope you had a good time.”
“It was the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years.” Without warning, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
She dropped down in the driver’s seat, and he held the door as she started her car.
“Drive safely,” he said. “Careful around the curve.”
She nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Gotta get those walls painted.”
“After lunch.” He shut the door, still distracted. He watched her drive away, the place where she’d kissed his good side sensitive to the cold.
He drew in a deep breath of air and blew it out slowly. Because he knew exactly what he’d been thinking when he’d kissed Riley on the cheek after she’d agreed to help him with the nativity. And it hadn’t been all that innocent.
Riley slept hard and woke before dawn with Mark on her mind. Her thoughts cycled between things she’d been told that stoked her fears and her reluctance to trust him, and everything about him that showed her he was genuine.
After an hour of restlessness, she pulled her laptop into bed and distracted herself with lesson ideas. She clicked through web pages with samples of utilizing white space, then sat bolt upright. She grabbed her phone.
Hey, can you take me out to Miracle Creek Bridge? Have an idea for a class project.
She waited.
He answered within seconds. Why are you awake?
You’re awake.
I am now.
Riley glanced at the clock: seven o’clock. Oops. I want to catch the morning light. Could you take me?
There’s a lot of snow.
That’s kind of the point. Can your truck handle it?
Yeah, my truck can handle it. When?
Ten minutes?
It’s a good thing I’m a morning person.
Are you?
Depends on your definition of morning. BRT C-fire.
She smiled. Maybe this excursion would lighten the mood for painting later. Maybe she’d treat him to breakfast to thank him.
Riley had just slipped into her winter boots when she heard the knock at her door. “Just a minute,” she yelled and hurried to the art room and grabbed her camera kit off the shelf.
Mark smiled when she opened the door, and a warmth opened up in her stomach. Stop it already.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” He looked good. Sleepy, but good.
“So . . . what are we doing?”
She held up her bag. “Taking pictures.”
He frowned. “Of what?”
“Snow,” she said brightly, grabbing her coat and stepping onto the porch.
“The sun is barely up,” he said.
“That’s why
