A Blazing Little Christmas(80)

Rebecca felt the need to restate the ground rules. “No letting go. I don’t like falls. They hurt.”

He shrugged casually, a man accustomed to pain and falls.

Rebecca didn’t want him to hurt. She wanted to ease the falls and heal the pain, but she knew she couldn’t. Cory wasn’t her Charlie Brown Christmas tree. She couldn’t wrap him in a blanket and bright ornaments and have him suddenly come to life, because life wasn’t a thirty-minute TV special. Scars didn’t heal. They stayed. They burned, and they never went away, no matter how hard you tried. This, Rebecca knew only too well.

For a while, Cory towed her around, but sometimes he did let go. The first time, she froze. The second time, she skated. Two glides before falling, but it counted all the same. As a childhood educator—former childhood educator—she knew the power of positive reinforcement, no matter how small and insignificant the accomplishment.

“Excellent,” he announced, his face ruddy from the cold, but the eyes were endearing. He had no idea how powerfully he was growing on her. Cory Bell from P.S. 35 was an adolescent girl’s fantasy. Cory Bell, the man, had grown into much, much more. Even if he did have a tendency to run.

She lost her balance, tilting into him, possibly—probably—on purpose.

He stared at her mouth, and she heard his indrawn breath. She wanted to feel his mouth, breathe life there, into his heart. He lowered his head, and she waited. Just when she could feel his warmth, feel the whisper inside him, he drew back, his eyes guarded once again. “That’s probably enough for today.”

Rebecca tried to smile, possibly—probably—failed. “Sure.”

As he removed his skates, she again noticed the scars on his palms. Maybe there wasn’t anything that would help. Maybe she should give up the fight, but that wasn’t Rebecca. She’d always been blessed (or cursed) with what her mother called “razor-sharp focus.” Frustrated, Rebecca began removing her own skates. With the skates safely returned, he walked ahead of her on the narrow path to the lodge, giving her his back. She’d dealt with abused kids, she’d seen what worked, what didn’t. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and she wasn’t sure how to handle a man who buried his pain so thoroughly.

Rebecca trudged through the deep snow, feeling the cold build up inside her. Why couldn’t he open up to her, admit that he was having fun? Because he was stubborn, that’s why.

So, she had no choice. She gathered a fistful of snow and rolled it into a rocklike ball of ammunition.

Rebecca fired.

Dead hit, right on the back of his head.

Perhaps there was a smirk on her face when he turned. Quickly she wiped it away.

“What was that for?”

“Having some fun.”

His eyes narrowed. “You fight dirty, Miss Neumann.”

“And your point would be?”

He laughed. Low and full of retribution. She should have been fearful, but Rebecca had her jets firing. Those same jets had made her homecoming princess by a landslide, snag James Anders Hardy from bitchy little Monique O’Neal and beat out snotty Heather Patterson for the Modern Manhattan Prep job. Now, Rebecca was two seconds away from a full-blown conniption, and as anyone who had experienced Miss Neumann’s class knew, a conniption was a moment to be feared.

She watched as he picked up some snow and trudged forward. One step, two. Closer to her. His eyes weren’t nearly so empty now.

“Bring it on,” she mocked.

He reached for her, and promptly dumped his handful of snow inside her coat. Down her shirt.

Rebecca gasped, her nipples sharpened into frigid icicles. Deftly she shook out the snow, but there was no feeling in her chest anymore. Rat bastard.

He snickered, dancing away from her, her fists flying.

She grabbed more snow, packing it tight, wound up the pitch, and let it fly.

He ducked.

Damn.

Cory advanced, hands held up. “Truce.”

Rebecca, noticing the curve of his mouth and heated light in his eyes, felt the exquisite thrill of victory, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Fine.”

He hooked a finger on her coat and pulled her toward him. She shouldn’t have seemed so breathy, so girly, so…eager, but this time when he lowered his mouth, she was ready. Oh, she was more than ready. The hard bark of a tree bit against her back, the hard feel of Cory crushed against her front, and everything in between was starting to melt. She knew he could kiss, knew how good he could kiss, and frankly, it confused her why he avoided the whole kissing thing.

As far as Rebecca was concerned, two people could stay here, mouth to mouth, forever. As long as it was Cory. As long as it was her. A sigh welled up inside her. Longing and loneliness combining forces to overwhelm her. She had never imagined she was lonely, aching for this. But now…she never wanted to be alone again.