Page 56 of Terms and Traditions

Chapter twenty-four

Stephanie

Who was this daring woman asking for a kiss? Even as the words came out of my mouth, my anxiety started to climb. This was bold, especially for me. What if he—?

Nash brushed a kiss to one corner of my mouth, then the other, short-circuiting my spiral. “I’ve got you.” The words were as soothing as his caress. I could fall; he’d catch me. Who was I kidding? I’d already fallen hard and fast.

“Nash,” I whispered, and he caught my plea with his lips, cradling my face in his hands. I felt… safe. Cherished. The kiss for my family had been wonderful, mind-blowing. This kiss was softer, sweeter. For us. Time slowed as the kiss lingered, giving and taking. Nash took charge, and my racing thoughts bled into the background, anchoring me in the moment. I was breathless and yet for the first time, I could breathe.

Pantries were absolutely romantic material, highly recommended.

My lower back lightly bumped against one of the shelves, rattling the jars. But I ignored it, winding my arms tighter around his neck. He groaned with approval when I wove my fingers through his hair, which was absolutely as soft as I’d imagined. And would be properly tousled when I was finished with it.

The shelves shook again and then THUD!

I gasped, pulling away from the kiss as a shower of white powder flew through the air, coating us. “Was that…?”

Nash didn’t let me go, just glanced behind him before resting his forehead against my neck and laughing softly. “Flour. Of course it was the flour.”

His chest rumbled as he held me close, and I joined in the laughter. The bag had missed our heads, but the fine sheen of powder blanketed the entire pantry and our clothes. “There’s no hiding the evidence that we were in here,” I whispered between gasps.

Nash tugged his Henley over his head, leaving just his white T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. There was no pantry stripping on the agenda.

“Relax.” He chuckled and shook his head, ruffling his hair to dislodge the white film. “We can’t track this all over the house. I’ll go grab some paper towels.”

I grabbed his elbow, his skin warm under my touch. “Make sure the coast is clear.”

“Aye, aye.” He winked over his shoulder before cracking the door and peering into the kitchen. “Let’s go.”

I felt like a teenager, slinking through the deserted kitchen after making out in the pantry. Something I’d never done before, but that was beside the point. I couldn’t meet Nash’s gaze without blushing. He’d kissed me for real, no fake agreements between us. After two years of dancing around the truth, we were doing this. And as we wiped up the flour explosion, I knew I couldn’t go back to being just friends, where these quiet, heartfelt moments between us vanished. Those light touches and sweet kisses.

And as I watched Nash kneel on the floor, mopping up the mess, I knew deep down this was right. I’d been brave enough to leap and trust the fall wouldn’t break me. Lord, please don’t let him leave, too.

Not long afterwards, Nash headed upstairs to grab a shower. There were plenty of washrooms and hot water on demand to go around, but it was still a bit of Russian roulette at times. After saying goodnight—with a goodnight kiss, of course—he left me to mingle with my family alone.

I helped Nana in the kitchen—dutifully avoiding eye contact with the pantry—before finally dragging myself towards my bed. As an introvert, too much socializing drained me, and I was ready to recharge in solitude while I finished the last touches of my knitting project. The one I needed to have wrapped and ready for tomorrow morning.

I hugged Ivy at the bottom of the stairs as she ushered her three kids out of the crowd still gathered in the living room and up to bed, since Eden was already asleep. “Merry Christmas,” I murmured, squeezing her tight.

“Merry Christmas. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Stephanie.” Hiram’s abrupt voice cut through the haze of Ivy’s hug and my post-kisses bliss, making me tug away. He rarely addressed me directly, so this was new. “A word.” He tilted his head down the hall towards the same small room I’d dragged Nash into the day before after rescuing him from Great-Aunt Edith. Without even waiting for my acknowledgement, he disappeared into the room. Expecting my compliance.

I couldn’t help the way my body tensed instantly and the sinking feeling in my gut that made me feel small. I was tired and not really in the mood for whatever he had to say. The curious, burning gazes of my siblings watching from the couches didn’t help either.

“You can say no,” Ivy whispered.

I smiled at her wearily. “Yeah, but might as well get it over with.” There was no way I wanted it hanging over my head tomorrow either. Giving her an extra squeeze, I trudged after Hiram. I loved how protective she was of me. I may not have been her actual kid, but she could go mama bear for me if the situation called for it.

Stepping into the room, I closed the door behind me and mentally assembled my armour for battle. As much as I would rather be dwelling on Nash and those kisses, I needed my head in the game for this conversation.

“What is this scheme of yours?” Hiram asked coolly, eyes taking me in from where he stood perfectly relaxed by the small corner bookshelf. From the disdain in his expression, I’d been found wanting. Again.

I frowned, adjusting my stance. Being short had its disadvantages when dealing with a powerful individual. Although… Nash’s height didn’t make me uncomfortable. I felt safe with him. Focus! “Scheme?”