Page 57

My hand curled around the warm mug, and spiced steam spread through the air as I picked up my phone again. My pulse gave a little kick, in anticipation or apprehension, I didn’t know.

J: I guess it’s good enough. For now :)

The little shit.

I groaned as spices and warmth bloomed on my tongue, and sluggishness seeped into my bones again with every sip. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but before I could reply, my phone buzzed in my hand.

J: Later, I might need some appeasing. I was waiting for a looong time…

Despite myself, a laugh bubbled out of me at the sheer audacity.

The second mugful hit my cheeks, setting them on fire, and though I knew the last thing I should be doing was text him tipsy—especially since he clearly wasn’t in his right mind either—my fingers moved of their own accord, spurred on by a buzz of curiosity.

M: Aww, you poor thing…What do you have in mind? :)

Heat rushed down my neck.

Am I… flirting?

I slapped my hands to my cheeks and yanked the window wide open, letting in fresh air. I turned on the radio, lowered the volume, and watched the snowflakes dance in the multicoloured lights as Dean Martin sang the chorus to Let it snow, and I sang along under my breath.

Another buzz, another lurch in my stomach.

J: I’m feeling generous, so your company will do.

You still didn’t answer my question by the way…

The song’s closing lyrics curled around me, and crisp winter nipped at my warm face, bringing with it the scent of snow and smoke as I scrolled up, pulse unnaturally skittish. Before I could answer, another text whooshed in.

J: I did, by the way. In case you were wondering

My cheeks passed warm and crossed into fire-hazard territory. The wine did a slow, thick roll in my stomach as I reread it a few times and forced a few steadying breaths in and out.

M: Missed picking on me, you mean

J: Look at you, you’re learning ;)

I bit down on a curse as my insides fluttered—courtesy of the drink, no doubt—and my toes curled into the worn, thick rug, as if they were trying to anchor me.

M: We need to cover what a compliment is…

Bzzzt.

Plastic vibrated on wood and my hand lunged for it, a little too fast. A breath stuttered in my lungs as my thumb swiped at the screen.

My stomach dropped.

Liam: Did you get home okay? Give Blackey pats from me

I scratched the back of my neck, frowning at my reaction, and typed a quick text back. A split-second after I’d hit send, Josh’s name lit up the screen again, and my insides gave another little flip.

I must have eaten something funny.

J: Speaking of covering, remember to layer up. If you get sick, I’ll have to deal with it.

And I’m very… hands-on.

A strangled little yelp escaped me, muffled on my palm and unheard by anyone but the silent kitchen. I blinked a few times, reread it about a dozen times, hand clutching the empty mug as I brought it to my lips and tried to take a sip of nothing.