Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Julian and James treated me to lunch at the top pizza place in town. While both gregarious, their affable natures presented differently. James’s immediate conversation was his priority—and his attentiveness was unmatched. Julian, however, put out a welcoming air that could pull an entire room into any discussion. Magnetic. They complemented each other perfectly, and it was clear why James got along with him so well. I’d only just met Julian and was already counting him among friends.

After we ate, we wandered a couple of shops, and dropped into The Barn for some coffee—no cameras and “minimal ghost chat.” The fact that I’d been duped didn’t occur to me until we were crammed together along the counter at The Barn, on our third round of subpar drip coffee, and Julian popped the big question.

“So Alex, I hear you’re something of an expert in the paranormal?”

I leveled a glare at James. “You know, giving up your sources is frowned upon.”

James held up his hands and shook his head. “I said ease into it, dude. This is not easing into it.”

There were worse things than to be hailed as the town’s ghost expert—but I hadn’t been on the scene in years. Besides, the kind of hauntings I was an expert in probably weren’t quite right—or real enough—for a couple of real-life ghosthunters.

“I know a bit about the spooky history of the town, yes. I can get you in touch with people who know more.”

“Would you, say, give an interview?”

“What, for the show?”

“Documentary,” Julian said.

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” James replied with a smirk.

I paused. “I think I need a little more information before agreeing to anything.” Because what would happen if they disproved the bookstore ghost—would Charles take back the offer? If James and Julian realized none of Haunted Happenings was true, would they reveal it all as a farce, or be upset with me for deceiving them? “Are you ghost-hunting, ghost-busting, or ghost-making-up?”

Julian tapped his chin as he considered. “Ghost-investigating, I’d say.”

“I’m listening.” I turned toward him and crossed my legs.

“Okay, so you have three kinds of ghost people. Believers, skeptics, and undecided.” He counted on his fingers.

“Are you trying to convince the skeptics, or contradict the believers?” Persuading skeptics, I could do. Assisting as they tried to debunk my stories would be a hard pass.

“I’d say neither. Even if there’s no such thing as ghosts—as in spirits that haunt from beyond—just a discussion about whether we have supernatural visitors leaves an impression on a person, no matter where they land on the belief scale.”

“Sounds like a psychology experiment to me.” I raised my eyebrows as I sipped the last of my coffee.

Julian cracked a wide smile. “Part of our goal is to examine how the suggestion of spirits affects people while documenting ”—he raised his eyebrows at James—“local legends and exploring how ghost stories are created and spread. But yes, we’re also trying to get footage of actual ghosts and hauntings as we do it. A double-whammy.”

“And since Luna seems to have contributed to the popularity and longevity of several local legends, we thought you’d be an ideal interviewee,” James suggested.

“Are you just trying to ride whatever’s left of my lingering YouTube fame?” I raised an eyebrow.

“The number one rule in show biz is to use your connections,” Julian said. “No qualms here.”

“Nor here,” James said.

“Entirely qualmless, myself,” I said. If anything, keeping an eye on their filming progress could nudge them toward the supposed bookstore ghost a bit, just to ensure Charles kept thinking the store was haunted. It probably wasn’t the most moral decision I’d made, but they seemed more interested in telling a great story than verifying the presence of ghosts. Authenticity seemed to be the last thing on their minds—there was no way Julian thought his cemetery tales were factual. They’d recruited tourists from inns and resorts rather than locals who could contradict them.

But they both seemed to land somewhere between believer and undecided—maybe even excited at the prospect of proving the stories? There was no benefit in revealing that Haunted Happenings was fake. Their creative spark seemed to come from their curiosity, and I wasn’t going to ruin it by telling them ghosts weren’t real. We could all benefit: they’d weave a riveting story, Charles would get to fully retire, and I could buy the store. No harm, no foul.

If they wanted to play with ghosts, I could make that happen. I gestured to James and Julian to hold please, grabbed my phone, and dialed Natalie’s number. She answered on the third ring—the huffing and puffing coming through the line meant she was either shoveling, cutting trees, or some combination of the two.

“Hey Nat, sorry. I’ll call back?”

“No, no, we’re good. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if we could hook up the boys for a little fun.” After being spoiled by rides whenever I wanted, I’d come to believe a horse-drawn sleigh was the only way to travel—especially when ghost hunting was involved. “Free at all this week?”

I savored the cautiously excited look that crossed between Julian and James, let a tiny smirk slip, then forced my face back to neutral.

“Dad’s closing the tree farm early on Thursday to catch up on some workshop stuff. Where to?”

“I thought we’d give James—that guy from the other night—and his friends a real welcome and introduce them to Emily.”

James’s head swiveled at the mention of Emily. I’d covered her on Haunted Happenings so he definitely knew the story.

“Is Luna making a comeback?” Nat asked. “ Haunted Happenings , the reboot?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I cautioned.

“Fine, fine. Just saying, you’ve got fans out there who would love more episodes.”

“Two are sitting right here.” I nudged James’s knee with mine, and he bumped me in return. “They’re filming a documentary about Stowe’s ghosts and wanted a little insider information.”

“Ah, so you’re keeping your eye on the competition,” she joked.

“Not quite. They’re looking for proof that the town’s ghost stories are true and thought we could help.” I eyed James and Julian, who both leaned in to listen as I explained the situation to Nat, trying to get her on board—without giving away the vlog’s secret. Given that she’d been suggesting I revive the vlog for years, it didn’t take much convincing.

“Going all out, or is this strictly a research mission? I can recruit the guys.”

Nat’s older brother Derick and his friends always provided the best special effects. They were pros when it came to capturing flickering lights, levitating orbs, and eerie sound effects on film.

“Leave them out of it for now, but depending on how the trip goes tonight, we may need them later.”

Natalie teased me about trying to impress the tourists—“usually you’re chasing them away, not inviting them for a night out”—and we hung up.

“It’s settled,” I told Julian and James. “Thursday. Come prepared to be scared. And, umm. Dress warm.” I plucked at the collar of James’s wool coat and wiggled my eyebrows at him.

Thursday evening, James and Julian bundled up, as recommended, and met me at my place. I pressed thermoses filled to the brim with hot cocoa into their hands, handed off baggies of marshmallows, and tipped my head toward the back door. “This way.”

They exchanged curious glances but followed me through the kitchen and out the back. James had a small camera bag slung over his shoulder. Just as I tugged the door shut behind me, wobbling lights and tall shadows climbed across the snow-covered back yard and a gentle jingle rang through the flake-filled air. Natalie’s sleigh came into view through the falling snow, complete with two giant horses who tossed their manes. She circled the backyard in a dramatic arc before pulling to a stop at the porch steps.

“This is Natalie and the team.” I ruffled each horse’s mane as I introduced them. James lit up, following me down the steps and shuffling booted feet through the snow to get to the horses. Julian was more hesitant, but he followed James. “Holly and Jolly. Hey boys, how’s it going?” I pulled a carrot from my pocket, snapped it in half, and offered a chunk to each horse. They left behind slime when they lipped the carrots out of my palms, so I scrubbed my hands off on my jacket and pointed the way for Julian and James. They climbed into the sleigh one after the other—Julian gripping the back of the seat as he shuffled in, as if the horses would take off without warning, and James practically bouncing with delight—and slid over to make space for me. I wiggled in, then tugged the festive plaid wool blanket up over our legs.

I handed Natalie her thermos. “We’re ready to roll.”

Natalie and I had gotten together for a haunting pregame planning session at my house earlier in the day. We’d toned it down considerably from the days of yore, when we’d covered a whiteboard in enough dashes, dots, and arrows to rival a football playbook. All the camera angles we’d need to get the spookiest orbs and reflections. Storytelling bullet points for me to memorize after I found out that “on the fly” wasn’t a mode that worked for me. Staging for when we pulled Natalie’s brother and his friends in for the more involved vlog episodes. This time, I’d filled her in on the bookstore news, and we focused on how to sell a haunting without being in control—and ambience was our method of choice. I’d forgotten just how alive I felt while plotting and staging tales of the undead—how strangely wonderful it was to plant pieces of myself throughout this town, even if the method was unconventional.

She tapped the reins and jiggled the switch, and the horses pulled away in total sync, like an equine ballet. Julian grasped the blanket’s edge as we pulled away, the lurch of the sleigh traveling through his whole body until he regained balance. James whooped , then chuckled as the sound rang through the dark forest. They both gripped their thermoses of hot chocolate as we slid through the snow. Lights hung from the sleigh, illuminating only a sliver of the path ahead, darkness swallowing up the world behind us as we pressed on. The soft swish of horse tails, subtle click of hooves, and occasional scraping of sleigh runners against stone or log were all that dared break the quiet of the night.

“You’re allowed to talk,” I told James. “Honest.”

“It’s just so peaceful.” He reached beneath the blanket and squeezed my gloved hand in his. I couldn’t feel his skin or even the heat of him through the layers of winter gear, but my chest warmed at the contact.

“This is my preferred mode of transportation,” Natalie called over her shoulder. “Usually, the horses are busy pleasing tourists by hauling trees from stand to car during our Old-Fashioned Christmas week, running sleigh tours for guests, Valentine’s couples’ rides through town, or hauling wagons filled with sap barrels during sugaring season. Nighttime sleigh rides are the only chance I get to really enjoy it, so thanks for the opportunity.”

“You just do this for fun?” James asked.

“Not as much lately,” I answered, “but yeah. We used to tack them up and take the wagon to the store in secret, until we got the wagon stuck in the mud on a back road one day. We had to ride the horses home. After Natalie’s dad dug out the wagon, he decided it was better to teach us to do it the right way rather than risk something worse.”

“You had to clean stalls for a week to keep him from telling your parents about it,” Nat said.

“Yup. They were the cleanest stalls I’ve ever seen. Spotless. Five-star accommodations.”

“He didn’t tell?” Julian asked.

“No, but they found out anyway. They were in Chicago at the time. Or maybe Washington. Who knows. Not here, as usual. Anyway, someone called to berate them for letting their daughter run around like a feral child. I was grounded, which didn’t do much good because I was staying with Natalie for the month and her parents don’t believe in grounding to teach lessons.”

“Nope.” Natalie laughed, and the sound bounced off snow-covered logs and returned to us muffled. “They believe in physical labor. Was that the summer we had to scrape and paint the shed?”

“No, the shed was because you stole your brother’s car and hid it down by the brook. The wagon was when he made us weed the garden, and you pulled up the radishes instead of the weeds.”

“Eww, radishes.” Natalie stuck her tongue out in an exaggerated grimace that rivaled Mr. Yuck stickers. “I maintain that I had no idea what I was doing, it wasn’t premeditated, and I never would have had I known my parents intended to serve radish salad at the inn all summer.”

“I gather you two have known each other for a while?” Julian asked.

“Only since birth. Her brother and my perfect sister are the same age, and we were born within weeks of each other. I’m like Nat’s family’s second daughter, though. I spent more time there than at my own home, even when my parents were around. It’s probably why their picking up and leaving didn’t sting as much as it should have. I still had family here, even if it wasn’t by blood.”

“Aww, Lex,” Natalie said. She looked back at me and reached one hand behind her. She flailed her hand, trying to make contact, so I reached up and accepted a squeeze. “Lucky for Lex, I’ll be stuck here forever. So she’ll have company in her stubborn desire to remain in Stowe until she croaks.”

We took the bumpy path down the side of the hill—more of a grass-and-rock ramp than travel-worthy roadway—and cut onto the dark dirt road that bisected the woods. The whisper-quiet swish of sleigh runners turned sharp and metallic on the icy lane. Julian and James jostled and gripped the blanket at their knees as we took the sharp corner.

“Amateurs.” I sniffed a laugh and James widened his eyes in mock surprise at the insult.

We slid along the road briefly, and Nat slowed the horses to stop at our destination.

“Oh, I’m definitely sensing something here,” Natalie said. She pressed fingertips to her temples, closed her eyes, and swung her head back and forth as if relying on echolocation to spot a spirit.

I snorted. “Don’t mock the poor guy, Natalie. He makes a living doing this.”

“Here to help, not ridicule. Got it.” She looped the reins in one hand and hopped out of the sleigh. She rubbed Jolly on the back and gave him a scratch beneath the harness. “I’ll hang with the boys if you want to do your thing. If it seems quiet, I’ll tie them and join you.”

James and Julian jumped from the sleigh and started toward the bridge.

“Wait,” I said. I reached into my pocket and tugged a few quarters from inside. “She likes it when we bring gifts.”

I tucked the quarters into their palms, then swept a hand through the snowy darkness. The sleigh’s lanterns cast a wizardly shadow across the snowbanks built up along the edge of the road. From the pull-off, the road narrowed. The sweep of dirt and gravel gave way to a wood-floored covered bridge; its weathered siding stood shadow-dark surrounded by trees. Lantern glow flickered through the windows to sparkle off the snow crystals drifting within the bridge. Squat shadows were cast by the roof peak into the woods beyond, the silhouette dancing against icy branches and evergreen boughs.

“This”—I turned to face the men and walked backward, arms spread to welcome them to my domain—“is Emily’s Bridge. Tragic story. Or stories. You’ll never hear the same one twice, but they’re all equally distressing. She either hanged herself, fell from a horse to her death, was brutally murdered, or some combination of those.”

Julian shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and took slow strides. He turned his eyes toward the treetops, scanned the bridge roof to ground, and turned a full circle to examine the forest surrounding us.

“I can’t believe you haven’t filmed at this place yet. It’s a local legend.” I slowed enough for James to catch up. He took in the sight with as much awe as Julian, a grin splitting his face. Wonder and fascination lit up his features, which warmed the little hollow in my chest where my heart thudded away.

“We’d thought about it but were focusing on some of the lesser-known stories. Besides, we weren’t sure we could top the activity you caught on film.” James scanned the dark sky, turning on his heels for a full three-sixty. “It’s even more amazing in person. Your episode left out how stunning the view is.”

“This might be the coolest place we’ve checked out so far. Thanks for making sure we didn’t skip it.” Julian pointed toward the camera bag James carried and offered a beckoning gesture. James passed off the bag, and Julian busied himself turning on and adjusting settings on the little handheld camera. “Lex, you looking for a consulting position? I know of a soon-to-be-famous ghost-hunting operation that could use your expertise. The travel budget may be small, but the experiences are enormous.”

Natalie’s laughter rang behind us. “Yeah, right,” she called out. “Like you could drag Lex away from here. Her roots are deeper than a pine tree’s.”

“Oh, come on. Maybe you’d consider it for the right price?” Julian asked, panning the camera to capture the view.

“Probably not,” I said. And there it was. Further proof that everyone’s goal was “get out of Stowe or bust.”

“Or for the right guy?” He teetered his eyebrows and bobbled his head toward James, who pressed his hair away from his face with the back of a gloved hand, then glanced at the ground.

“Finding where you belong is an important discovery. Maybe quit hassling people who are lucky enough to know where their place is,” James said. Jeez, could he get any more attractive? He tucked his hand into his pocket and jutted an elbow out to create a crook. Yup. Yes, he could.

I slipped an arm through the gap he’d left and tugged him closer. He tipped downward and kissed me on the top of the head and more heat bloomed through my chest at the intimacy of the moment. “Would you protect me if Emily showed up?” I asked.

His answering chuckle was more discomfort than a confirmation. Like maybe I’d dipped into territory I didn’t have any right to be in, yet. Chemistry did not equal a vow to protect someone against the paranormal. “I mean, you’re not obligated, or anything. Just, like, would your instinct be to run away and save yourself, or would a sense of morals require you to stick around and fight her off?”

“I think the more important question is would you protect me ? From what I know of this area, people aren’t exactly pleased with outsiders. It probably goes for the ghostly residents, as well.”

I kicked a chunk of snow out of our path and laughed. “It’s a rough crowd. Most of them have been here their whole lives. It’s an unofficial rule that you’ve got to have three generations in the state to count yourself as a true Vermonter. I’m still a Vermonter by default, even though my parents moved away. But it’s a strike against me, to be sure.”

“So, do we go in the bridge?” Julian asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Go ahead.”

The three of us strolled into the gaping mouth of the covered bridge. I placed my quarter on the inner truss, and James and Julian followed suit. They eyed the interior and strolled without hurry. Though slow, Julian’s stride was confident. He peered into the rafters and tapped his knuckles against the wall. A satisfied hmm escaped him as the rapping echoed through the bridge.

James lagged behind with hesitant, shuffling steps.

We’d only taken a couple steps into the bridge before a deep, menacing laugh ricocheted off old wooden siding and bounded away into the darkness.

“ What the —” Julian yelped.

James’s grip tightened on my arm.

I threw a glare over my shoulder.

Natalie tipped out of the shadows beside the bridge and poked her head into the opening. “Gotcha,” she said. Her voice was joy and mischief dancing through the chill air.

Julian’s nervous laugh turned to a chuckle, and he gestured for Natalie to join him. James didn’t loosen his grip.

I smirked. “You’re not scared, are you?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

“Oh my god, James, are you scared of ghosts? You’re part of a traveling ghost-hunting documentary!”

“Just chilly. Are you chilly?” He shook in an exaggerated shiver as if to prove the point.

Just as I was about to remind him that Vermont girls know how to dress warm, he slipped his arm free from my grasp, gripped my elbow, and pulled me into a hug. My limbs went loose as he enveloped me.

“Hey,” I whispered. I smiled as I stared into his eyes. The lantern light flickered behind him, casting his shadow across my face. “You’re dreamy.”

James broke into laughter. The sound bounced off the inner walls, then rushed its way toward the icy road and woods beyond. “You gonna do something about it?”

I rose onto tiptoes and leaned in close enough that I could feel the warmth off his face. “Maybe.” I placed a gentle kiss on his lower lip, then pulled it into my mouth less gently. He leaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around me to pull me even closer.

“This place is cool and all, but I prefer your company to ghosts.”

“The ghosts are much better conversationalists, I assure you.”

He pulled back and turned away, his hand dropping from my waist to grasp for my hand. We twined fingertips and he turned his eyes upward to examine the rafters inside the bridge’s roof. “Do you remember that day?” he asked, his usual confidence masked with a bit of caution.

“Sure do.” I followed his gaze upward. “It’s been made immortal on the internet so I can rewatch any time the details feel fuzzy.”

He shoulder-bumped me. “You know what I mean.”

I exhaled slowly as I considered my response. My hot breath mingled with the cold air, sending misty clouds swirling. Apologizing to business owners for scaring customers away with ghost stories was something I’d gotten used to—but taking the magic away from someone who wanted to believe wasn’t a step I was willing to take. Aside from the fact that my chance to buy the bookstore depended on the ghost stories persisting, I’d breathed life into those stories because the distraction had made my complicated teenage years easier. James seemed like he was searching for something to believe in now, just like I was then. I couldn’t ruin it for him.

“I remember it.” I swallowed. “We’d filmed a few earlier videos, but something about that specific encounter was different. I’d had a difficult week, and I needed to feel a connection. Emily gave me that. Sharing the story of someone so strong and sure and, frankly, out for revenge gave me something like hope.” Whether an actual ghost had been involved didn’t matter—the power of storytelling meant Emily lived on, which was a comfort when I dreaded being left behind.

“Did you ever experience anything like that again?” He laced my gloved fingers with his, and my stomach took a quick loop-de-loop.

“Almost every time we filmed. Not always on the same level, but yes.” While not quite an answer to the question as he’d intended it, it was the truth: each vlog helped me feel more connected to this town, my neighbors, and my very wonderful friend who froze her ass off behind the camera at all hours of the night just for the chance at adventure. And mischief.

“The hauntings around here are the real deal, then?”

I shrugged. “Some people think so.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that when people can’t explain something, they make up a story to explain it for them. A weird prickle of goosebumps or eerie sound might be ghostly, or it might be your brain trying to make up for not understanding.”

He cocked his head and lifted a brow. “That’s a very scholarly answer.”

“I spend ninety percent of my time reading. What did you expect? What about you—do you feel a presence? Tell me the truth, are you scared?”

“I’m totally freaked out.” He brought both hands up to cover his eyes. “All this ghost-hunting stuff scares the crap out of me, but I didn’t figure that out until we were already in too deep. Should have known, though. I slept with a night-light until I was twelve. These days, I can’t even watch trailers for scary movies. I’d prefer not to poke around where I don’t belong. Just in case. At least while I was watching Haunted Happenings , there was a screen to separate me from the stuff you were encountering. I know, the irony. It’s overpowering. I just really need to win this documentary competition, even if it means facing fears I’d rather not.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Wouldn’t want to ruin your cred.”

Natalie’s laugh echoed through the bridge, and Julian’s danced through the air alongside it. I pointed in their direction. “Looks like they’re hitting it off.”

“Not surprised. Everyone gravitates to him. It’s why he’s able to travel the country gathering stories in towns where he’s only just landed. People feel like opening up to him about anything. His films haven’t gotten the attention they deserve yet, but he’s made a hundred friends in every state. He’s pretty suave.”

“Look who’s talking.” I dragged one boot-clad toe through the built-up snow and dirt that was strewn across the wood plank floor and leaned into James’s side. “You’re pretty suave yourself.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re thinking,” Julian called to us. He had one hand in a pocket, and he pointed with the other as he worked out the details in his head. “I’ve got plenty of anchor locations in here—we can set up the cameras, and the crew can control them remotely. We’ll have to give it a couple of test runs and make sure the weather cooperates. If it’s too cold out, it’ll be nothing but a foggy mess if anyone so much as exhales in front of the lens. But I’ve worked with worse. Fix it in editing, no big deal. My new friend Natalie here has promised me some ghostly apparitions if I can round up the crowd.”

“Time to dust off the goodies from our haunting days.” Natalie grinned.

James turned his eyes toward me, so many questions plastered across his face.

“She means the vlog, of course,” I covered. Now was not the time for him to figure out that everything was fake—not when I had an offer on the table from Charles.

“Absolutely, yeah, for the vlog …” Natalie flashed an apologetic grimace in my direction after almost breaking the first rule of haunting club. “Remember that one episode we did, where the guy forgot his car? Just ran on down Hollow Road shouting apologies for bothering the spirit.”

“If we could re-create that,” Julian said. He popped his hands into dual fireworks. “Someone would absolutely pick it up.”

James shook his head and turned his whole body in a lazy half-circle to face the horses. “Remember me when you’re famous,” he said.

“You’ll be standing on that stage with me when I accept that Oscar. We do it all together, man.”

Everything Julian does, James does. Everywhere Julian goes, James goes. Joined at the hip, those two. It was beginning to sound like the only thing permanent in their lives was the likelihood that they’d find some new adventure across some distant horizon. Leave behind the new for the newer, over and over again until they ran out of novel experiences—or died.

James knocked a chunk of ice around the wooden floor using the toe of his boot, suddenly less talkative than I’d ever seen him. The guy always had a joke to crack or a verbal jab to sling.

“Hey.” I gripped the sleeve of his jacket. Even if my gloves blocked the feel of the wool, the motion had become my best reminder of how good I had it. If I focused on the wonderful now , I didn’t have to worry about what happened when he moved on to the next stop on his filmmaker road trip. I’d never been good at optimism, but James’s carefree manner made me want to give it a try. As long as I didn’t ignore the likely outcome, I deserved to enjoy the time we did have.

“Hey yourself.” His face flipped from pensive to cheerful, and his shadow stood tall in the lantern light.

“Want to let them plan? Get out of here before any apparitions drop in? The walk back home is short, and I brought a flashlight.” I tugged it from my pocket and clicked it on.

“Hey, you’re ruining the vibe,” Natalie hissed.

“Yeah, what she said!” Julian added.

“We’re headed back—it’s freezing and you’re both out of your minds. Enjoy the ghost hunting.”

“Suit yourself!” Natalie turned back to Julian, who had already resumed plotting his camera angles and lighting set-up.

“Don’t forget the car’s at Lex’s place—make sure you’re decent when Natalie drops me off,” Julian said with a smirk.

“You can’t rush perfection.” James spread his hands and bent at the waist into a dramatic bow.

I snorted in faux disgust, then pulled him into a kiss. “Save the showing off for later.”

“Later?” James offered the crook of his elbow again, like an old-timey gentleman. It was endearing. I left him hanging, and instead took a few slow steps ahead of him, throwing a little extra swing into my hips and ass.

“You know the best way to warm up is to get naked and climb into bed together, right?” I said. “Don’t waste energy on verbal sparring—you’ll need it when we get back to my place.” I looked over my shoulder at him, swung the flashlight toward the road ahead, bit my lip, and winked to make doubly sure James caught my drift.

“Oh.” He took a long stride toward me and swept me into an eager embrace. His icy nose and lips sent a shiver from head to toe, but the warmth of his tongue slipping between my lips chased it away. He growled against my mouth, low and self-assured, like he knew exactly what he was doing to my knees.

“Get a room,” Natalie called through cupped hands. Julian whooped, then chucked a snowball in our direction. It skidded across the plowed and sanded surface and broke into a hundred tiny pieces.

“Oh, I intend to.” I grabbed James by the hand and tugged him down the road.

We made it onto the sleigh-wide path that cut from the road to my backyard before he stopped short and pulled me back to him. He scooped me into his arms, and we fell into each other. His breath came heavy and quick, but it wasn’t only from trudging up the snow-covered dip. He swept his fingers up through the hair at the base of my neck and paused, his palm cupping the back of my head.

The flashlight glinted off snowbanks. The tree-lined trail opened to the vast canvas of sky that consisted of nothing but velvet night and crystal stars twinkling like beacons. Even with a thousand stars winking above me, my eyes remained fixed on his. Nothing was more spectacular in that moment than the way he gazed at me. A shiver ran through me when he inhaled, then pulled me in for yet another knees-to-jelly kiss. He snickered against my mouth.

“What?” I pulled back a bit to narrow my eyes at him.

“I bet this is where you brought all your gentleman callers in high school.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d limit myself to only gentlemen ,” I said. “I’m pan. For the record.”

James nodded. “I’m bi. For the record. But the question still stands: is this the Lex version of Lookout Point?”

I laughed and it echoed back at me, mockingly. “Never.”

“What, not even once?”

“Not even once.” I brushed a few snowflakes from his shoulder. “I wasn’t what you’d call, umm, popular. There’s a nook under the bridge where couples were often busted for getting friendly , but not me.”

He crossed his arms and scanned the tree line. “There.”

He grasped my hand and tugged me through a mound of snow and just into the woods. The flashlight dropped into the built-up snow when his pull jolted it from my grip. He spun me around and leaned me against a tree, surprising a squeak out of me. He ignored the sound and pressed kisses along my jawline, down my neck, and across my collar bone. He interlaced our fingertips and raised my hands above my head to push them into the tree trunk.

The textured bark nipped through my jacket and pressed against my spine. He leaned into me, pushing me tight against the tree while he kissed and played against my throat. His stubble scraped the delicate flesh, and I rolled my head back farther to give him better access to the spot. Instead, he drew his tongue across the bump of my collarbone before moving to the side of my neck. The frigid air danced across the area where his tongue had been a moment before, turning the trail to ice. I tipped my mouth toward his ear as the smallest moan escaped me.

He slid a knee between my thighs to put pressure where the heat was building, so I rocked against it to show him my interest—a little encouragement to keep things moving in my favor.

“Hmm.” He pressed the knee upward again, less gently this time. “Is this okay?”

“Hell yes,” I whispered. “This is the most okay I’ve been in a long time.”

With a glint in his eye, he brought his hand to his mouth, tugged the glove from it with his teeth, and let the glove fall into the snow without a care. With deft fingers, he reached beneath my jacket and plucked my jeans button free.

My breath came in shallow huffs as he slid his chilled fingertips beneath my shirt to play against my stomach. Core warmth and icy extremities became my new favorite combination as he slipped his hand farther inside my shirt, then dragged one knuckle directly down the center of my stomach. My back arched involuntarily. He took the moment of surprise to slide his hand downward, into my unbuttoned jeans and beneath the band of my underwear.

He ground his knee into me from the outside, and his cool finger met the slickness of my clit on the inside, which solicited another moan that started in my stomach before climbing through my chest to sneak from my lips. Warmth built as he rubbed with one finger, then added a second.

When my limbs loosened and my arms went slack from the gloriousness, he slid his fingers inside me and pressed his chest against mine to hold me tighter against the tree trunk. His knee still provided a pleasurable pressure between my legs, but now his fingers were doing the work. I moved on him, encouraging him to continue and helping him reach the spots that would make me come. Hot breath gusted against my cold skin where his head leaned toward me, and I groaned as my pleasure turned to swells of something more, something hinting at release.

He slid his other hand along my arm, over my coat, and to my shoulder, where it remained while he leaned back and looked at me from beneath sensual, lowered eyelids. He was going to watch me as I came, and I was ready to give him the show he desired. My thighs quivered and my breath hitched as he pressed his knee upward once more, sending a flood of warmth to my core as my body trembled in an orgasm that left me breathless.

With his teeth pressed into his lower lip—his satisfaction at my pleasure made very well clear—he loosened the press of his knee without hurry and hooked his finger at the edge of my waistband. I let my head fall backward against the tree as giggles shook me.

James brushed my hair away from my face and kissed the space where my jaw and earlobe connected, then rested his forehead on the tree beside my head. We laughed together, bodies jiggling against each other and our voices flitting into the pitch-black woods.

When my breathing had slowed to something closer to normal, James retrieved his glove from the snow and I went searching in the powdery drift for the flashlight I’d dropped. The impact had either broken it or switched it off, so there was no glow to go by. Eventually, we gave up and started the dark trudge back.

We hadn’t walked more than five minutes—stolen kisses and weaving into each other’s paths reducing our forward progress—before the jingle of sleigh bells danced through the air.

We flagged down Natalie and Julian, but our laughter had given us away before they spotted us. Natalie pulled the sleigh to a stop and we climbed aboard.

“Wow, you couldn’t even wait for the room, huh?” Mock surprise played in Natalie’s voice.

We covered ourselves with the heavy blanket and didn’t even bother to sputter excuses. We rode back to the house leaning into each other, arms twined and knees touching.