Surprise, Lauren.
She grew up in Illinois—she wasn’t a stranger to sledding. She and her brother use to sled the hill at their favorite park all the time. It had been years since she’d gone, and she wasn’t sure she had the right disposition to enjoy it or the athleticism to accomplish it.
She absently wondered if this Mistletoe Town had a hospital.
“It’ll be fun!” Will beamed.
As Lauren watched the kids tearing down the hill at break-neck speed, worry crept up her spine.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look green.”
“I don’t sled. I mean, I haven’t been since I was a kid, and even then, I always found a way to get hurt. Remember that one snow day we had when everyone went sledding at Kiddie Corral? And Benji Fritz came flying into me like a rocket? He knocked me into a tree, and I had to get stitches in my chin.”
“How do I not remember that?”
She shrugged.
“So, this is like, revisiting a painful memory for you.” She heard the tease in his tone.
“It wasn’t funny!” She laughed, despite herself.
“Okay, how about we go down together? I promise I won’t let you hit a tree.” He sat down on the inner tube and patted the space in front of him. “This spot has your name written all over it.”
She hesitated, weighing her options. With the line of kids behind her waiting for a turn, she didn’t have much choice. Never mind that she and Will were the oldest people up there. Even the parents of these many rambunctious children were situated off to the side, watching, like respectable adults.
She sat gingerly, then pretended not to feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck as she situated herself just so. Once she stopped moving, he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in closer, as if positioning her exactly in the spot she fit best. As if she’d been artistically designed to fit there, her back pressed to his chest, his arms holding her tight.
“This okay?”
She nodded. Her voice wasn’t working at the moment.
He pulled her closer, and the warmth from his body radiated through their winter coats, heating her up from the inside out. “You ready?”
When she nodded, he inched them forward to the top of the hill, and they sat for a few seconds, teetering on the brink of pure, unadulterated exhilaration. And a question poked at her from the back of her mind—Are you going to let go? Or are you going to remain completely closed off because you’re afraid of smacking into a tree again?
The irony of the metaphor didn’t escape her.
They raced down the hill, side by side, and despite her best efforts to remain unaffected, Lauren couldn’t help it—she laughed. She practically howled with delight. Skidding, spinning, hitting bumps that put air between her and the tube, they both finally tipped and collapsed in a heap at the bottom, her body almost directly on top of his.
She didn’t notice the smell of his aftershave or his taut muscles underneath his winter coat. And she most certainly didn’t pay one little bit of attention to the full lower lip that practically dared her not to kiss it.
She rolled to the side, still breathless with the sheer delight of their tear down the mountain.
They lay there, silent, looking up at the sky, then turned to one another for a split second. . . and immediately jumped up to do it again.
Their delighted shouts on the way down rivaled those of every child sharing that mountain, and Lauren finally decided to sell out to it, if only for the day.
For his part, Will seemed extra attentive to her expressions and her silences. He seemed perfectly in tune to what she wasn’t saying. And when reality closed in, he turned up the fun.
It was, without question, one of the best days of her entire adult life. Because of him.
Who knew?
Her preconceptions were wavering. Her walls were cracking. She was—for better or worse, and she didn’t know yet—changing her opinion about Will Sinclair.
When the tubing finally wore them out （it turned out they were no match for the kids on the mountain, who were still happily going strong）， they packed up and walked toward the Jeep.
“You’re smiling.” Will’s attentiveness unnerved her—left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. “I didn’t even know you had teeth,” he teased.
She hit him. “Ha, ha. That was actually really fun.”
“Nothing like snow shooting up your pants to change your outlook on life.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “See? Christmas isn’t so bad.”