Page 61 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

“Oh,” I say with an awkward laugh. “Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I don’t mind the ink. Just didn’t like the idea of his hands on you.”

Yes!

“Okay, how about this? And if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer. Is there a particular reason you’re still a virgin? You saving yourself for someone special?”

“Haven’t ever wanted anyone that much,” I say. “And I’ve never trusted anyone enough.”

“I get that,” he says.

He stops walking abruptly and pulls me into a hug. We stand there holding one another for a few breaths where I swear everything around us stills, goes completely silent, and all that I hear is the sound our hearts beating in time together. Bum bum, bum bum. Then he looks down into my face and kisses me on the tip of my nose.

I nearly swallow my tongue forcing myself not to declare my undying love for this man. He is the absolute sweetest. I want to make babies with him so I can see him kneel down with our littles and kiss their boo-boos and wipe away their tears.

I want to rewatch every funny movie and television show I’ve ever seen, just so I can hear him laugh through them. I want to rewatch all the ones that make me cry so I can feel him wrap me in those big, sturdy arms, and press my face to his thick chest. He is comfort and love personified, and if he doesn’t feel the same way for me as I do for him, I think my soul might actually shrivel up and die.

We let go of one another and walk some more. He buys me a ridiculous but adorable headband that has those old-fashioned, large, colored bulbs that light up. It’s so festive and happy and I immediately put it on my head.

“This is going to make my sister so jealous,” I tell him.

He looks at me and chuckles. “And that pleases you?”

“Oh yes. We both love Christmas so much and have a tendency to get competitive with who can dress the most festive.”

“I see.”

“Look out!” someone yells.

I turn to see what’s happening, but instead I’m hit with a wall of wet, cold something that drenches me. I shriek, but I’m pretty sure the sound is swallowed up by me getting a mouth full of snow.

Yep, snow.

Man-made snow, but still snow.

“Oh my God, Roni, I’m so sorry,” a voice yells from off to my right.

But I’m still wiping the frosty stuff from my face.

“Holy shit, guys, you hit her square on. You could have hurt her,” Nash barks. “Are you hurt?” he asks, rubbing a hand up my arm.

“I’m okay. Just cold. And wet.” I pull at my shirt, which is now basically shellacked to my body. Awesome. I bet that’s super flattering, highlighting all my bumps and wobbles like that.

“Sorry,” the person yells again.

From the voice it sounds like one of the Crawfords. Maybe Johnny.

“The snow machine kinda had an explosion,” he explains.

Someone thrusts a small towel into my hands. “Dry your face, Roni.” This is Amber’s voice. Now that I’m able to clean the wetness off my face enough to see around me. She leans close to my ear. “Okay, that was not how that was supposed to go. Are you hurt?”

“No.” I wipe my face some more, then look at the cloth. “So much for this being waterproof mascara,” I grumble.”

“It worked, but I apologize for getting you in the face too.” She gives me a big grin.

“Holy Fuck,” Nash says in a deep, growly voice.

“What? What's the matter?”