“Hold on!”
Isabelle thought fleetingly of holding on to him. He was big and solid and so damned appealing. And she barely knew him. Quickly, she curled her hands around the rear set of handles as he shoved off.
The wind fluttered her hair as they started their descent. This wasn’t so bad. Nice and easy. Pleasant, even.
Then they hit a steeper grade and began to pick up speed. Isabelle’s hair whipped back and her eyes began to sting. She didn’t feel entirely stable on the back end of the tube as they skittered over some bumps in the snow. Her hands fisted tighter around the handles even as Brandon whooped.
“Brace yourself! Got a little drop coming.”
They caught air. Isabelle didn’t know how, couldn’t see past Brandon’s bigger body, but she felt it in the sudden loss of friction beneath them. Then they landed with a jarring thud, and she was throwing her arms around his waist and hanging on for dear life. That shifted the balance, and the back end of the inner tube swung around so they were racing sideways down the slope.
Brandon’s arms clamped down tight over hers as they began to spin. Faster and faster. Isabelle saw a blur of trees and pressed her face against his back. He was shaking. No, he was…laughing. Great whoops of laugher.
“You’re crazy!” she shouted.
“Live a little!” he called back, but his laughter was interrupted by another huge jolt.
Isabelle felt her arms break free of his grip and she went flying.
~*~
They landed in a snowbank, a tangle of limbs. Brandon’s face was pressed half in the snow, half against her hair. It smelled like vanilla. Aware he was crushing her, he scrambled, trying to get enough purchase to get off her. He succeeded only in straddling her body, knees on either side of her hips. She was shaking. God, she’d been so anxious about the whole thing, and here they’d crashed. She was probably freaked out. Pushing up with both hands, he asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Isabelle sucked in a good breath…and began to laugh.
Brandon stopped moving, too caught up in the delighted curve of her mouth and the humor sparking in those gorgeous brown eyes. The smile transformed her serious face into something that hit him low in the gut. I am in serious trouble, he thought.
Breath still hitching with helpless giggles, Isabelle said, “You look like the abominable snowman.” She reached up and proceeded to brush a substantial pile of snow from his head and the right side of his face.
It didn’t matter that she wore mittens. It might as well have been warm fingers against his cheek for all Brandon ceased to feel the the cold.
That mouth. God, he wanted to taste her. He dragged his gaze from her lips back to her eyes. Awareness swam into them, her pupils springing wide. She stopped laughing. Her hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder but didn’t push him away. Brandon held very still, enjoying the sense of expectation as the moment spun out, his heart starting to gallop. Eyes open and focused on hers, he started to lower. Isabelle gave a quick, involuntary hitch of breath, parting her lips.
Using the tension in his braced muscles, Brandon shoved up, managing to get one foot under him enough to rise. Better to keep her guessing, keep her off balance. He had a fleeting moment to see confusion flash across her face before he let himself topple like a tree into the snow behind him. Isabelle’s unsteady breath had him fighting a smile. Mission accomplished.
To give her a moment to settle and cool his own unexpected arousal, he moved his limbs in a wide arc.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.
“Making a snow angel.” When she said nothing, he lifted his head to find her half sitting up in the snow bank looking puzzled. “Haven’t you ever made a snow angel before?”
“We didn’t exactly have an abundance of white stuff in the panhandle.”
“That’s just tragic,” said Brandon sitting up. “Come on. You’re already covered in snow. Might as well correct that serious oversight in your childhood education.”
She shot him another of those mildly exasperated smiles. “You’re a funny guy, Brandon.”
“I do try. C’mon.”
Despite her Very Serious Grownup attitude, she flopped down a few feet away in the snow and proceeded to make her snow angel. He liked that about her. He found he liked a great many things about her and said a brief, silent prayer of thanks that Travis had bailed.
“Let’s get you up before your jeans soak through,” he said. Pulling her up was easy. Tucking her against his side to study her efforts was easier, and the arm she slipped around his waist was progress, payment for denying himself that kiss.
“A perfect first attempt,” he pronounced.
“Even a workaholic can learn new tricks.”
“You’re a good student.”