Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

16. Cooper

S he was scared. That was why I’d done it.

Or at least that was what I told myself. But I knew in the back of my mind, in the same spot that held all those painful memories and secrets, that I’d done it for me too. That I’d set my hands on either side of her jaw, taken one look at those quivering pink lips, and leaned in without hesitation all for my own selfish reasons.

I expected her to pull back. A quick peck to the lips, and it would be done. Over and forgotten by tomorrow. A favor to a friend. That was all.

I was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Madeline was sweet. I’d known it when I met her—or, I guess, the first time I remembered meeting her—and I’d known it even more solidly when I’d heard that those two kids weren’t even hers, and yet, she’d taken them in as such. She had a big heart. A kind one. And maybe she didn’t know how to describe herself, but I did. I did enough for the both of us.

Madeline Sage was sunshine itself. Not the kind of sunshine where, if you stood out of the shade for five minutes, you would have a sunburn. And certainly not the kind of sunshine that hid behind clouds and barely peeked out. She was the form of sunshine that showed up right after a bad rainstorm. The sun that made rainbows appear and made you look around and think there were a whole lot of good things in this life. Especially after you’d experienced all the bad ones.

I knew all of that, and yet, kissing her was anything but sweet.

Her lips molded against mine, the fullness resting in the curves of mine. Like two pieces of pottery perfectly pressed to fit together. I sighed into her mouth when her hands rested on my chest. She sighed right back when my hands on her jaw dropped to her waist and slipped down to the curve of her hips. My pinky slipped under her sweater and below her waistband, riding there. Gliding up and down until I felt goose bumps raise on her.

I opened my mouth, maybe to speak, maybe not. Maybe to tell her hey, pretty sure he’s gone now. But either way, she took it as an opportunity to open her mouth too, slipping the tip of her tongue against mine. Mint from gum and vanilla from that ChapStick she’d anxiously applied the whole way here tangled between us. I wondered if there was some way to bottle this up. I was desperate for it, for her. For more.

So I kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her some more.

I kissed her until we were nothing but tongues and lips and teeth. Her hands shifted to my shoulders, pulling me closer. I slipped my hands into her back pockets and squeezed. She gasped against me, like the sweet Madeline she was, so soft and gentle. I leaned in farther.

Was kissing always this way? Kissing. I wanted to laugh. What a trivial way to explain what we were doing now. Either way, I knew there was no way it had been like this before. All those times before felt like practice for this moment. Just for her. I could blame the relentless pounding of my heart on my abstinence, sure. It would be easy to chalk this moment up to a well, I haven’t been with a woman in over a year branded excuse. But I knew this was entirely unrelated. This was me with something, someone, so good that it felt like the universe was rewarding me.

Somewhere back in the galaxy where we stood in line for pizza, I heard a few throats clearing. And I thought one mom told her kids to cover their eyes. But that was on Planet Earth, and I was nowhere near there.

A shiver rippled up my spine when I felt her hips wiggle against mine, lighting me up in ways I didn’t know were possible. I considered it then, throwing a sweet Madeline over my shoulder, tossing her into my car—safely buckling her in, of course—and jetting us off to anywhere but here. But then she hummed against me in the prettiest moan, and I honestly thought no wonder the lady taking the tickets was so crass. This old field had some kind of erotic potion in its soil, and it was poking up through the grass and snow, right into my bloodstream.

“Excuse us.” The guy behind us shuffled around us, moving closer to the pizza line. I probably should have stopped. But she didn’t either.

A moment later—or maybe an eternity later, who could say, really?—a light flashed in our eyes, and a loud, thunderous voice spoke near us.

I pulled back to see a security guard, a stocky guy dressed in all black, with a badge swaying from side to side over his heart. I squinted at the badge. Gerald Simpson.

“This is a family establishment.”

Yeah, Gerald, I wanted to reply. I almost made a family right here on this field.

Madeline spoke for me, clearing her throat. “So sorry. We will leave.” She eyed me, holding in a laugh it seemed, and walked right past the line of people staring at us. She didn’t once glance back to see if her ex and his wife were watching either. I was far too proud of that.

When we got back to the car, neither of us said a word. We stared down at the old couple in their blankets, sleeping and holding each other’s hands, and then I think it hit us both. We slipped into my vehicle and I started the engine.

Madeline mumbled out a whisper. “We’re horrible people.”

“Downright vile.”

“The lowest part of society.”

“Right next to the two-lane drive-thrus.”

She looked over at me as my hand gripped the seat belt, pulling it halfway over my body and then pausing. We made eye contact. A silent beat passed, then we both started laughing. I threw my head back against the seat, letting go of the seat belt and cackling.

Madeline’s shoulders shook when she dropped her face to her hands, laughing with me. “So embarrassing.”

My head shook from side to side, still laughing. “No, it was amazing.”

“Do you think he realized it was me?”

I had forgotten about him for a second. My ex. That was all she said, but between those two words and the glimpse of fear in her eyes, it was all I needed to know.

“I’m not sure. If he stared really closely, then maybe. I guess it depends on when you saw him last…” I left that last part open-ended. An invitation for her to share more, though she could easily decline too.

She looked up from her hands, her previous smile slowly falling as she leaned back in the seat. “It’s been a couple years.”

“Oh? Have you…changed much since then?”

“Yes.” A humorless laugh poured out of her lips. “I’ve changed everything and nothing at the same time.”

I took that as my sign not to push any further. I could be reasonable when the situation called for it, even if I was desperate for more information. And just because I didn’t push for answers tonight didn’t mean I wasn’t going to later.

“Hey, Madeline?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember the things we don’t like game?”

She snorted. “Yeah.”

“Well, I really, really don’t like your ex.”

Her laugh came back at that, a loud crack that fizzled out into a sigh. “Yeah, me neither. Sorry if I ruined the whole not-date thing. What other plans did you have?”

I hummed. Originally, my goal was to force her to keep making decisions so she would realize she was capable of finding herself, even if it wasn’t in the way she expected. After we watched the movie, I planned to see if she wanted dessert, extend this night as long as possible and take notes of every little thing she did until I had my own full assessment. But now I knew any kind of whimsical surprises I had up my sleeve were going to be severely disappointing in comparison to defiling each other in the pizza line.

“Well,” I started. “I was thinking we could sit in back and watch the movie.” The one that had started when neither of us was paying attention to anything other than our mouths. “Or we could sit here and I can learn more about you. You know, for research purposes.”

She smiled at that, a soft, slow one that felt reserved just for me. “Let’s do that, then.”

I smiled back. One only for her.