Read Snow One Like You Online

Authors: Kate Angell

Tags: #romance, #holiday, #christmas, #contemporary, #snow, #mistletoe, #reindeers

Snow One Like You (5 page)

BOOK: Snow One Like You
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Christmas morning, and Allie woke with
a start. To rumbling. The vibration shook her window, passing down
the alleyway that ran between the general store and the local café.
The sound returned. She threw back the gray-and-white patterned
quilt that matched her flannel sheets; hopped off the bed. In her
hurry to reach the window, she slipped. Her socks skating on the
hardwood floor. She grabbed the bedpost, righted herself. Shuffled
on.

A glance outside, and she found Rhys
pushing the snow blower. He came from the back of the store,
returning to the front sidewalk. Snow flew and he packed his own
drifts. He wore his snowmobile suit, boots, and ski mask. He
reached the corner of the café, and the owner Granny Flannery came
out to greet him. Winter coat flying behind her.

The café was always open. Holidays
included. Granny swore she was related to every resident in town.
She welcomed anyone who’d sit and have a cup of coffee with her.
This morning, she brought Rhys a large Styrofoam cup, steam rising
from the lid. She patted him on the arm. Her way of thanking him
for clearing the sidewalk and alley, just in case someone ventured
out. Snowflakes still fell. But there was no wind. The sun made a
valiant attempt to squeeze through overcast skies. Sent down a few
rays.

Considerate Rhys, Allie thought. He
lived up-mountain, but never hesitated to help out below. Snowbound
benefited from his kindness often. She dressed quickly, navy sweat
shirt and pants, minus underwear, and went to check on his efforts.
Had he cleared a path for the moose to wander? Maynard and Manfred
didn’t mind the snow. Only blizzards.

No electricity, still, she noted when
she checked on the merchandise. Thoughtful man, Rhys had kept the
fireplace alive. Wood burned. Warmth held within the walls. She
added another log inside the grate to be on the safe
side.

The mud room, and she slid
into a pair of yellow Wellingtons. Rhys referred to the waterproof
rain boots as
duck feet
. No matter, she stayed dry. Snowdrifts were deep. She layered
a Shearling vest and pale blue insulated short-coat over her sweat
shirt. Scarf, mittens, and she left through the side door, which
opened to the alley.

Rhys had finished his coffee, and was
back at work. The snow piled, yet he managed the snow blower with
little effort. He’d cleared the heaviest drifts near the rear door
of the barn, so the moose could mosey out. Their hooves were like
snowshoes. They’d truck through the snowfall without
problem.

Allie raised on tiptoe, craned her
neck, watched, as he turned off the machine. He then went to the
rearmost door, and slid it wide. Seconds later, Maynard and Manfred
appeared. They went straight to Rhys. Head-butted him. Looking for
pinecones. Rhys produced one for each, from the side pockets on his
snowmobile suit. The twins snorted, grunted, chewed. Then plodded
off.

She continued toward Rhys. Slowly.
Stealthily. She thought to surprise him. She kept to the side of
the barn, walking within the shadows, stepping over puddles where
the snow turned to slush. Ahead, Rhys remained where he stood,
surrounded by snow banks.

Lost in thought, he removed his ski
mask; ran a hand through his hair. It spiked. He had yet to turn,
yet to see her. His gaze tracked the twins. The boys were playful.
Who was chasing who was anyone’s guess? They bumped together,
nipped, picked up speed. Then disappeared over the rise. Into the
woods.

Allie held her breath, she
was within steps of him now. Bending, she scooped a mitten-full of
snow. The collar on his snowmobile suit lay flat, she had plenty of
room to frost his neck. “
Snow one like
you,”
she shouted their favorite phrase
from childhood, right before she iced him. Laughing all the
way.


Son of a-” was cut off to
his jumping. To his shaking out his collar. To his turning on her.
To his growling. To the muscles in his jaw bunching. “Lady wants a
snowball fight. You put snow down my back. I’m going for your
front.” Retaliation. He came after her. Revenge was his.

She tried to run, but tripped over her
own feet instead. She went face down in the snow, and barely spun
over before Rhys jumped her bones. Her breath whooshed with his
weight. He straddled her with his big body. Pinned her arms to her
side with his knees. She had no wiggle room. Paybacks were hell. Or
sexual, given their position.


No-o, Rhys,” she pleaded.
“Mercy.”

He looked down on her, grinned evilly.
“Mercy, like you showed me?”

His smile held, as he packed a
snowball right before her eyes. He tickled her cheeks with loose
snowflakes. Then pressed fresh snow across her lips. He watched,
mesmerized, as it melted against the warmth of her mouth. His
nostrils flared, and she thought he might kiss her. He did not. She
felt a moment of regret.

Calculatingly slow, he unzipped her
jacket, all the way down to her waist. Then tucked back the sides
on her Shearling vest. Exposing her sweat shirt. Icy air snuck up
the hem, along with his hand. “Baby it’s cold outside,” he warned,
right before he crumbled the snowball on her bare chest.

Freakin’ freezing.
She shrieked. Which brought his mouth down on
hers, to silence her, so she wouldn’t wake the town. He touched her
with his tongue. She let him in. He claimed her. A kiss so long and
deep she might never speak again.


No bra,” the hitch in his
breathing gave her confidence. He lifted his head. His sigh was
heavy. Male. He tugged off one glove with his teeth. Resettled his
wide palm on her middle. He slid upward, over her ribcage. His
fingertips swept away the snow. All the way to her
breasts.

Her nipples tightened, ached, as much
from the cold as from the heat of his hand. His calluses were rough
on her tender skin. He made her shiver. Sweat. Her pulse pounded.
She couldn’t catch a decent breath. Her belly flexed. She tried to
roll her hips, only to rub his groin. She couldn’t get close
enough. He buried his face in her neck, nipping her chin, upward to
her ear. He bit her lobe.

Tension. Pleasure. Reckless desire.
Undid her.

The snow-banked field provided them
privacy. His body now streamlined hers. The snow around them
melted. The frozen ground was hard at her back. Rhys’s morning
scruff abraded her cheek. He shaved twice a day. Had yet to draw a
razor that morning.

He nudged her legs apart, slipping his
thigh between them. Her hands curled in his collar, clutching him
close. She closed her eyes, her mind, blocked out the world to only
him. He kissed away her doubts. Every last one of them.

Snort.
Hot blowing breath. A moist nudge to the top of her head, made
her blink. She glanced up. Maynard stood over them, all snowy
muzzle and moose breath. Bark stuck in one corner of his mouth.
He’d scavenged for food, and been successful. He was a
survivor.


Merry Christmas,” she said
to the twins when Manfred showed up, too. His hooves kicked snow in
her face, and she shook her head.

Rhys released a breath, and freed her.
Allie pushed up on her elbows, and he sat by her side. He brushed
the remaining flakes from her brows and beneath her eyes. “Bad
timing, guys,” he told the twins.

Another snort from Maynard, and they
ambled toward the barn.

Puddles now formed around her. “We
melted a lot of snow.” Her short-coat was insulated, yet dampness
soaked through her sweat pants. Her lower back and bottom were wet.
Turned on, she was moist between her thighs. She dipped her head,
unsure what to say, what to do?

Granny Flannery saved her. “Rhys,
Allie,” she called from the alleyway, invited, “When you’re done
making snow angels, stop by for coffee.” She disappeared, rounding
the corner of the café.


Snow angels?” Rhys threw
back his head and laughed. A deep, gut laugh that had Allie
chuckling as well.


She wasn’t wearing her
glasses,” she informed him. “She’s nearsighted.”


Otherwise she would’ve
gotten an eye-full.”


Of you copping a feel.”
Her breasts felt heavy and tender. Her nipples,
hard-tipped.


Of you rubbing against
me.” He stood then, shifted his stance.

He held out his hand, and she took it.
He drew her up beside him. She closed her vest, buttoned her coat.
Brushed the last of the snowflakes from her sleeve. “Coffee sounds
good.” She kicked out her legs. “I’d like to dry off. Change
clothes first.”


Yeah, me, too. The
snowball you stuffed down my collar dripped to the crack of my
ass.”


Poor baby.”


Poor baby, huh? Who got
her breasts iced?”


We’ve always tried to best
each other.”

He ran one hand down his face; rubbed
the back of his neck. Suddenly serious. “You got to me today, Allie
Hartley. I’ve never lost control and rolled around in snow as we
just did. I wanted you.”


I wanted you, too,” she
softly admitted.

They’d spoken of their desire. What
next? She thought. Should she initiate or would he?

Rhys looked her in the eye, shared his
idea, “I’ll be your Christmas present if you’ll be mine. We could
unwrap each other later. Tug off my bow?”


You bring a whole new
meaning to gift wrap.”

He reached for her hand. Her mitten
fit within the palm of his snowmobile glove. They walked together
toward the store, and entered through the side door. Rhys
immediately removed his snowmobile suit. He stood before her in
yesterday’s sweats. She slipped off her coat, hung it on a peg.
Vest came next. “What should we wear to Granny’s?” she
asked.


We don’t have to dress up
for coffee.”

She scrunched her nose at him. “I was
thinking festive.”


No Santa hat or reindeer
antlers.”


How about red suspenders
decorated with tiny evergreens?”

He nodded. “That I could do. Hook them
to my jeans. I’ve a pair in my backpack.”


I have a green waffle
shirt with a picture of Santa and his elves lounging on the
beach.
After the Christmas
Rush
.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow, remembered, “I
gave you that shirt. Ten years ago.”


I know. I still have it.”
A gift from Rhys was a gift prized. She’d sewed both shoulder and
side seams several times over. The shirt was folded in the bottom
drawer of her dresser. She’d pull it out, wear it today. Remember
old times.

He rubbed his hands together,
chuckled. “I kept that pair of leather gloves you gave me when I
made the Olympic team until they became fingerless.”

Her heart had warmed, swelled, when
he’d skied for Team USA. He was an incredible athlete. And an
amazing man.

She’d wanted to replace those gloves,
for a long time now. The timing seemed right. She slipped behind
the counter, opened a drawer. Brought out a white gift box with a
big red bow. “I have something for you,” she said. “Which you can
unwrap now, and save me for later.”


I have a present for you,
too.” He crossed to the front of the store, scored his backpack off
the peg. Returned to her. He unzipped a side pocket, slipped out a
black velvet case, passed it to her. “Designed especially for
you.”

She carefully lifted the lid. Her
breath caught. She couldn’t believe her eyes. A thin sterling
silver chain with a delicate mistletoe pendant sat on a cushion of
satin. Original. Beautiful. Memorable. “Put it on me,” she
requested, her eyes welling, her hands shaking.

He slipped the necklace about her
neck, secured the clasp. The mistletoe settled in her cleavage.
Eye-catching. Perfect. She threw herself against him, kissed him
soundly. “I love it.” She then handed him his gift.

Rhys’s smile was immediate when he
opened the box. Wide and pleased. He tried on the Italian leather
gloves. Soft, flexible, they fit like second skin. He cupped her
face between his hands; kissed her with tongue and
appreciation.


The café,” Allie breathed
against his mouth.


Granny will come looking
for us, if we don’t show.” They’d accepted her invitation. She
expected them to arrive. Promptly.

They parted at the stairs. He went up,
she went under. Twenty minutes, and they met back in the store. She
wore the waffle shirt, her necklace tucked under, against her skin,
and over her heart. People would ask about the pendant. Mistletoe.
Kisses. Too personal. Too private. Too new to her. She wasn’t ready
to share. Black boyfriend jeans and a pair of Converse completed
her outfit.

Still unshaven, his hair casually
mussed, Rhys never looked more handsome. More rugged. More mountain
man. She held up a pair of red suspenders. “Hook you up?” she
asked. Then rising on tiptoe, she curved the wide straps over his
shoulders. Secured the clips on the back waistband of his jeans.
The front clips dangled, right over his zipper.

He looked at her. “Finish the
job?”

BOOK: Snow One Like You
5.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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