“Wait.” Tate pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Come stand by our alien. We need a photo.”
“What did I just say?” Reno said with mock admonition while he struggled to keep a straight face. “We can’t have photographic evidence.”
“Get over here.”
The way Tate was looking at him with so much glee in those bright green-gold eyes of his, and his cheeks rosy from the cold, and that smile that could make Reno do anything, there was no fight to put up. He would do anything Tate asked if he kept looking at him like that.
I’m kind of screwed.
He shook his head, pretended to be more put out than he was, and stomped through the snow to stand beside their alien snow creature thing. Tate stood on the other side, trying to stretch his arm out far enough to get them all in the frame.
“Here, let me get that for you.” A man Reno recognized walked toward them. It was Sam, the cartographer he’d enjoyed meeting at speed-dating the night before.
“Hey, Sam,” Reno greeted, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He’d almost been able to get away without anyone knowing who made this excuse of a snowperson.
Sam smiled at Reno, then looked at their creation.
“It’s uh . . . unique,” he said with far more tact than Reno could have mustered.
Tate laughed as he handed over his phone.
“That’s one way to put it,” Reno teased. “Thank you.”
Sam winked, snapped a few extra shots to make sure everyone had their eyes open, and handed the phone back. Their snow alien looked freaked-out with his paper cartoon eyes that Tate had insisted on making. He’d run back to the cabin before the contest and drew big wide eyes like Daffy Duck on a piece of paper while Reno collected the roundest, flattest rocks he could find from the river. Which, in and of itself, had been a bit of a challenge with the snow and ice. Then, Tate cut them out and glued them to the rocks after they’d dried by the fire. They were crooked, but they were hilarious.
“Oh my god,” Reno said. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d seen, but what drew his attention more was him and Tate captured together, arms over each other’s shoulders and smiles proud, as they stood behind their snow alien.
“Right?” Tate sounded so pleased, like he’d just accomplished the impossible, and Reno couldn’t help but share in the joy that radiated off him. “Give me your number so I can send these to you too.”
Reno’s breath caught.Give Tate his phone number? Then he would have Tate’s too, and he would be tempted to call him. And then what? He absolutely still had a thing for Tate, there was no denying it. But did Tate still think he was off-limits because he was Ricky’s little brother? The awkward kid who had a crush on him. Was he only humoring Reno right now and “taking advantage of the situation”?
Tate hadn’t been looking at him when he asked for Reno’s number, but when Reno didn’t answer right away, Tate looked up at him expectantly. Unthinking, Reno recited his digits. A few seconds later, his phone pinged in his pocket. And then it pinged a half dozen more times with missed notifications. Which meant he had cell service and could finally call his dad.
“Okay, hot chocolate,” Tate said as he turned back toward the hotel.
Reno stood there for a second, trying to rebalance his equilibrium as he reached for his phone. He took two steps and heard a shout just before something white whipped past his head and hit Tate square in the middle of his back. Snow covered his whole jacket. Tate stopped, stood completely still for a beat, and then slowly turned to look at Reno. The expression on his face was so incredulous that Reno broke out laughing. He bent over and his eyes watered as the laughter took on a life of its own. He hadn’t laughed so hard in so long he didn’t care that he could barely breathe. This was exactly what he’d needed.
Until a snowball hit him, and the ice-cold chunks trickled under the collar of his jacket.
“Hey!” Reno complained and quickly tried to shake the snow out of his clothes. “It wasn’t me. It was them.”
He pointed to a small group of people on the other side who had turned the snowperson contest into a snowball fight. One of them shouted a “sorry!” that sounded suspiciously like “sorry-not-sorry” as the culprit tossed another snowball, fortunately not in Reno’s direction. But when he turned back to Tate, a snowball greeted him right in the face.
“Oh no you didn’t!” Reno brushed the snow from his eyes. “It’s on now!”
He took a few more hits and made sure to get Tate with just as many. He dodged a ball and ducked behind what was left of their snow alien—only one icicle remained, and half of its tiny head was missing—and gathered more snow. When he had a perfect ball, he stood ready to throw, only to find Tate right there.
“Ha!” Tate shouted and shoved snow down the front of Reno’s jacket as he giggled hysterically.
Reno tried to step back, tripped, and flailed as he fell. He landed on his ass in the cold, wet snow . . . while wearing jeans. He groaned. So not a good combination.
“Oh no!” Tate’s face fell. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Reno grumbled as he struggled in the slippery snow to get back on his feet.
“Here.” Tate held out a hand and helped Reno stand up, but he didn’t let go and the forward momentum carried Reno on a crash course with Tate. He slammed into him, chest to chest. Reno took a step back, but Tate didn’t let go of his hand. He held it close to his chest. Over his heart. Reno met Tate’s gaze and felt like he was falling again. Only this time, he fell forward, toward Tate. The air swirling around them grew hot enough to melt the snow they stood on. Tension coursed between them and formed a circuit that had Reno’s every nerve thrumming with want and anticipation. Shouts and laughter from the snowball fight faded into a low hum.
Reno’s eyes fell to Tate’s mouth. He watched with fascination as Tate’s tongue sneaked out and moistened his lips. Lips he wanted to taste. No,neededto taste. One more inch and—
