A Cunningham Christmas (3 page)

Calder’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Just think about what Louisa would want. What she finds romantic.”

And there’s the problem again—I should know what that is, but I don’t. We’ve been together for a year and a half. We’ve lived together for almost as long. We have a child together. I know which parts of her body are the most sensitive, and I know exactly how she likes to be kissed. I can tell with one look whether she wants me to make love to her sweetly or whether she wants me to fuck her until we break the damn bed. Why don’t I know this?

I slip my hand into my pocket and close my fingers around the ring again. Lou’s never been one for frills. Simple
is
the way to go. But I want to show her how much she means to me, how much I want us to be a family. Calder might call his proposal “simple” and “intimate,” but that doesn’t mean he just dropped to one knee. He planned something creative for Lily. He made it meaningful.

Calder chuckles beside me, and my eyes dart up to his face. There it is again—that smug satisfaction. He looks so damn amused with me.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing,” he replies. “But I know how you feel. Trust me. The anxiety is worth it in the end.”

Easy for him to say. Lily accepted his proposal the first time. Lou’s shot down marriage the dozen times I’ve raised the subject in the past. I wouldn’t even consider asking her if I weren’t convinced her opinion on the issue is different now, but
still.

Fuck me, I’m hopeless.

Simple. Intimate.

This time my mind focuses on the second word. I want to give Lou everything she wants. Everything she deserves. I think back on the most intimate moments of our relationship, on the memories that left the deepest impressions on my heart. A moment in my broken-down car on the side of a highway. A stay in a roadside motel during our grand escape. And then there were all of those nights in the hedge maze…

The maze. That’s it.

I fell in love with her in that maze. It’s where we first opened up to each other. Where we first shared secrets, first let down our walls. Where we found comfort and understanding and passion in each other.

And suddenly a plan is forming in my brain. I see myself leading her between those hedge walls under the moonlight—deep into the maze, I think, all the way to the center. I see the words “Marry me” strung up in lights along one of the hedge walls—like the stars have dropped down from the sky to spell out the words. And there, in the middle of that beautiful scene, I see myself dropping down on one knee to pop the question.

It’s perfect. It’s fucking perfect.

I’m grinning. I can’t help myself. Calder’s shaking his head at me, and even his smile doesn’t seem quite so smug to me anymore. In fact, I feel a little like I want to hug him.

I don’t, of course. But I clap him on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” I say.

Now I have everything I need—the perfect date, the perfect ring, the perfect plan—and all I have to do is put it all together. I’m going to give Lou a proposal so perfect she won’t be able to refuse.

LOU

Ward is coming toward us, and his smile is as bright as the sun.

It makes me feel mischievous. I love his grin, and I bet I can make him grin even wider. There’s a clump of snow in my hand. I was going to throw is over Ramona again, going to watch her squeal in delight as the tiny cold flakes fluttered down over her, but now I have a better idea. I tighten my fingers, packing the snow together in my fist.

I wait until he’s only about ten feet away, when I’m sure I can’t miss. And then I pull back my arm and chuck the snowball at him as hard as I can. It hits him square in the jaw, and the look on his face is priceless.

Both Lily beside me and Calder—who’s not too far behind Ward—burst into laughter. Ward’s grin turns wicked, and then he bends over and scoops up his own handful of snow.

Quickly, I grab Ramona from the ground next to me and hold her against my chest.

“You can’t throw that at me,” I say. “I’m holding the baby.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Using our daughter as a shield…”

“She’s not a shield,” I insist, snuggling her closer. “She just looked cold.”

“
Mm-hm
. I’m sure.” His eyes are gleaming. “Or maybe you’re just a coward.”

“A
what
?”

“A coward.” He stops a few feet in front of me, his freshly packed snowball resting casually in his palm. “Or do you prefer the word ‘chicken?’ ”

He did
not
just call me that.

I look down at the squirming little angel in my arms and realize there’s only one way to settle this.

“Lily,” I say, “will you take Ramona for a minute?”

“Of course,” Lily says, clearly amused by this whole thing.

I pass my gurgling, wiggling daughter into her arms and climb to my feet—making sure to grab a fistful of snow on my way up. Ward’s still grinning, but he doesn’t immediately throw his snowball at me. Instead, he seems to be waiting to see what I’ll do.

My hand is behind my back. I only managed to grab a little bit of snow, but I tighten my fist and compact it until it’s more or less a snowball. My eyes never leave his. I don’t know whether he saw me grab more ammunition, but his expression gives nothing away. He’s perfectly still.

Well, it looks like I’m going to have to make the first move.

I hurl my snowball at him. A split second after I move, he throws his own snowball at me.

The icy blob hits me right where my neck meets my shoulder. It explodes, and though half of it ends up on my coat, the other half somehow finds its way inside my scarf. I wince as icy slush starts to trickle down inside my sweater.

Ward’s laughing. My snowball hit him right in the middle of his chest, but it didn’t seem to do much. I immediately bend over and grab more snow—much, much more this time—but Ward does the same. I have to start playing defense. As soon as I have the snow I need, I turn and run.

His footsteps follow me immediately. I shape the snow in my hands as I bolt across the yard, but I’m not sure I’m going to be fast enough. But there’s a huge oak ahead, and if I could just reach—

SPLAT!

His snowball hits me dead in the back. I keep running. I don’t know what else to do. But when I reach the tree, I twist and pitch my snowball right back at him. And I couldn’t have asked for a better shot.

He’s bent over, gathering more snow, and my missile hits him right on the top of his head. White powder explodes in his hair, and though he stands and shakes his head, slush still clings to the auburn strands.

I laugh and duck behind the tree before grabbing more snow. Now it’s war.

When I have enough snow, I straighten and stand with my back against the oak, waiting for him. My breath is a cloud in the air, and my fingers are starting to go stiff with cold beneath my wool gloves, but I keep the snowball at the ready.

A minute passes. Two.

I hear no snowballs hitting the trunk behind me. No boots crunching through the snow. In the distance, Ramona squeals, but there’s no sound from Ward. Is he waiting for me to grow impatient and peek around the tree?

Well. If that’s the case, then he’s going to be waiting a long time.

I shift my weight and turn my head slightly, trying to pick up on any sound from the other side of the tree. I hear someone—probably Lily—clapping for Ramona. I hear a couple of birds overhead. I hear a breeze rustling the dry branches of the trees along the edge of the property.

But where the heck is Ward?

I’ve been standing against this tree for a full four or five minutes now—which doesn’t seem like very long most of the time but is a lifetime when you’re out in the cold and trying not to move.

Maybe I
should
move. Maybe I should jump out from behind the tree and pelt him before he even has a chance to aim at me.

Honestly, at this point that seems like the best choice. I’ll go on the count of three.

One…

Two…

Suddenly, I hear snow crunch from around the opposite side of the tree. I spin around, but it’s too late—Ward snuck up on me from the other side. Snow hits me in the face. Ward guffaws as the slush runs down my cheeks.

Oh, no
, I think as I wipe the snow away.
He’s not getting the last laugh.

He’s still laughing when I step forward and grab him by the scarf. The corners of his mouth turn up even more as I pull him toward me, and I pause, realizing he thinks I’m going to kiss him.

Instead, when his face is only inches from mine, I take the snowball in my hand and slam it against the back of his neck, trying to get as much as I can beneath the collar of his coat. He yowls and jerks away from me, dancing and shaking as he tries to get the chunks of ice and snow to fall out of the bottom of his coat. I take the opportunity to run.

I’m not far when I hear him coming after me once more. I duck behind a bush and grab some more snow, and this time I know better than to try and play defense. He won’t sneak up on me again.

The game continues. I manage to hit him twice before he hits me again. But then he gets me three times before I’m able to land another snowball. We’ve managed to chase each other behind the house, and after just avoiding his latest slushy missile, I hide behind a statue and build up a couple of snowballs before running out into the open again.

He’s closer than I thought. I get him with both snowballs—
One! Two!—
and he doesn’t have anything to throw at me in return. But suddenly, that doesn’t seem to matter. Instead of reaching down for more snow, he runs straight at me.

I bolt, but his legs are a lot longer than mine. He catches up with me quickly, and we both go tumbling down into the snow. The air is knocked out of my lungs, but he doesn’t give me much time to recover. He rolls me over so that I’m looking up at him, and then he lowers himself down on me and kisses me.

He’s unbelievably warm. I tug off my gloves so I can touch him, and his skin is like fire beneath my hands—at least the places where I can actually
find
skin. Most of him is buried beneath coat and scarf and too many stupid layers of wool.

He kisses me again and again, never giving me a chance to catch my breath. It doesn’t matter. I let him kiss my breath away, let him push me deeper into the snow. His hands begin to unwind my scarf, and I don’t stop him. I’m not sure I need it anymore.

My fingers grapple with the buttons of his coat. I won’t pull it off, not out here, but at least if it’s open I can run my hands against his chest through his sweater, feel his hard muscles beneath my touch.

His mouth comes down on my throat, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin. The back of my neck is flush against the snow now that my scarf is out of the way, and the contrast between the freezing cold of the snow and the heat of his lips makes me shake. I’m trapped between two extremes, and my body doesn’t know what to do. I only know that I don’t want this to stop.

His coat is finally open, and I slide my hands beneath it and wrap my arms around his body, pulling him fully on top of me again. Ward licks along the length of my collarbone, and I shiver.

“You’re cold,” he murmurs against the base of my throat.

I smile. “Well, we are lying in the snow.”

He starts to pull back. “If you want—”

“No.” I wrap my legs around his waist and yank him back on top of me. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

He grins and kisses me again, even more passionately this time. After a moment, his hands slide between us and he unbuttons my coat. His fingers glide up my body, finding my breasts through my sweater. They’re much fuller since I had Ramona, and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He finds one of my nipples through the wool and squeezes it, and I moan. I raise my hands to his hair and wind my fingers through it, keeping his face against mine. He shifts his hips, grinding against me and pushing me back against the snow. It’s beginning to soak through my jeans, but I don’t care. I tighten my legs around his waist and raise my hips against his.

He groans against my lips. He pulls back, but my grip on his hair keeps his mouth close to mine.

“I want you,” he growls.

“I want you, too.”

He gives a short laugh. “No. I mean I
want
you. Right here.”

“I know.”

That’s all he needs to hear. His hands move down between us, and I let my legs fall, allowing him easier access to the fly of my jeans. He unzips me and then begins to tug the fabric down my hips. I raise my body to help him.

The cold air is a shock against my skin. And when I drop back down to the ground, I gasp as my bare bottom hits the icy snow.

Ward sits up immediately. I’m afraid he’s going to stop, and I’m about to argue, but before I can say a word, he grabs me and pulls me up into his lap.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a smile as his warm hands brush the snow from my bottom. His voice drops as his lips move to my ear. “I’ll make you warm again.” His mouth dances across my ear, then down the side of my neck. I take the opportunity to drop my hands down to his lap and open his jeans.