Page 27 of Dashing Mr. Snow


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“What are you thinking about?”

I study the smile on Alex’s face, noticing a dusting of icing on his lower lip leftover from his donut. Without thinking, I lean over and swipe it away like we’re a couple settling in for a routine Saturday brunch on the couch.

“Nothing, just happy you’re here. Nice to have some company.”

“You promise you’re not just saying that since I barged in here unannounced and now you’re too afraid to kick me out?”

“Not at all. Although, I am mildly—no—veryembarrassed about last night.” I can feel my cheeks growing red.

“Embarrassed? Why? Did I embarrass you?” He puts his food back on his plate and looks at me. His dirty blond hair falls down over his forehead, making it difficult to focus on our conversation.

“No, not at all. I just mean me, dressed like that. And of course my friends and their comments.”

“First of all, that outfit wasn’t embarrassing, it was—” He does that thing guys do sometimes, slowly dragging his hand over his mouth while looking me up and down. “Well, let’s just say every man in that bar wished they were me last night. Trust me.”

I avert my gaze, taking a bite of my donut so I won’t ask him to elaborate, even though I’m dying to. I still want to know what he was going to say before the buzzer on the dance floor interrupted us.

We stare at each other, both our chests rising and falling in time with our breathing. It’s like we both want to say something…or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

“I told them I saw your penis,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I clamp my hand over my mouth, muttering, “I’m sorry,” then grimace at my muffled apology.

He laughs a hearty, almost bellowing laugh. “I thought we already came to that conclusion at the bar last night.”

“Well, I didn’t actually confess. I know I shouldn’t have told them, and honestly, I only did it because I thought my friends would never meet you and I was so confused by everything after.”

He reaches his hand out and slides it over mine, our fingers lacing together like it’s a normal gesture for us.

“I liked meeting your friends. They were very nice and funny. I’m not embarrassed or upset you told them. I would have too. It’s a pretty funny story, Sadie. Is that why they kept talking about candy canes?”

“Yeah.” I giggle. “I told them I saw your candy cane, and they ran with it.”

“Well, I certainly hope they don’t think it’s because it has a hook in it.”

I burst into laughter and shake my head. “No, I told them—” I stop abruptly and point to the TV in hopes we can change the subject before I beg him to kiss me again. “We should watch the movie.”

“Sadie,” he says, lowering his voice as he tugs my hand. “What did you tell them?”

“That it was huge. I think I used the term kielbasa sausage.” I feel warmth climbing up my neck again.

He fights a grin and softly strokes his thumb over the inside of my palm. “And do you like sausage, Miss Emmert?”

I swallow hard and nod tentatively. It feels like he’s fighting with himself the way the tone of his voice changes, or maybe that’s just because I am battling my own desires…I can either beg him to drag me back to my bedroom right now and bury himself inside me, or I can let him be a gentleman and a friend.

I grit my teeth and briefly close my eyes, letting out a calming breath. When I open my eyes again, he has a look on his face, one that tells me he wouldn’t say no to anything right now. He must read the anxiety on my face because he looks away, reaching for the remote.

“Maybe we should start the movie. Otherwise, I might do something I’m not sure you’re ready for.”

I want to tell him I am ready for whateveritis, but truthfully, I’m not sure I am. Do I want this to merely be a fun rebound, or am I looking to him to replace a guy who’s broken my heart more times than I can count?

He hands me the remote and we spend a few minutes reading through the descriptions of the different movies on demand, finally settling on one about a small-town single dad who hires a nanny, and she ends up being the love of his life.

I settle against the couch cushions, sipping my coffee with my feet propped up on the coffee table. When we first sat down, there was about a foot of space between us. Somehow, without me even realizing it, our thighs are practically touching now. I can feel the warmth of his body next to mine, and when he brings his hand up to take the last bite of his donut, his arm brushes against mine. I feel my body growing tenser the more I focus on our proximity, and I wonder if he feels it too.

“You can relax,” he finally says in a low, gravelly tone that does nothing to help the situation between my thighs. He bumps my shoulder with his as he looks over at me, and I smile, letting my shoulders fall from where they’d been hovering near my ears. “I promise I won’t bite. Yet.” His voice is so quiet, I’m not sure I was meant to hear that part.

Halfway through the movie, I feel myself start to nod off. The story is cute and engaging, but between the sugar and carbs and the shitty sleep last night, I can’t fight it any longer. My head bobs and I jerk it back upright, situating myself so I’m sitting straighter, but it’s no use.

I blink, my eyes focusing on an arm that isn’t mine. The TV is still on. Growing aware of the warmth of someone underneath me, I slowly lift my head and realize I must have fallen asleep on Alex’s chest.

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