A snowball exploded on Tate’s shoulder, followed by another sorry-not-sorry shout.
Tate dropped Reno’s hand and stepped back, gaze still locked on Reno as he crouched down to form another ball in retaliation. Reno shivered not from the cold but from the sight of Tate practically on his knees before him.
Then, with a wink and a grin, Tate turned and lobbed his snowball into the fray.
The broken connection left Reno feeling as though he’d stepped out of a fire and into a deep freeze. How did Tate shift gears so easily? He seemed unaffected by the moment that had passed between them as he dove back into the snowball frenzy, while Reno stood there off-kilter, still trying to figure out which way was up. He frowned. He’d thought that Tate felt the same when he’d kissed him all those years ago. Even now, with that heated look and near kiss. If Tate really had felt the same, he’d never have run away then or now.
It was time he gave up his fantasy that he and Tate were meant to be. If Tate did have feelings for him buried somewhere deep down, he’d have to be the one to make the move and show Reno.
His whole body shook, and this time, not from arousal. Even though he’d worn his winter boots and jacket when he’d come up to The Retreat—it was winter in the mountains, after all—he’d worn jeans. Not exactly good attire for playing in the snow, and now that he was soaking wet, the cold was starting to set in.
Tate turned back to him with a satisfied grin—a grin that slipped when he noticed Reno shivering.
“Let’s go get that hot chocolate and warm up at the cabin by the fire.”
ChapterFour
Friday, December 23
Two hours later,their clothes were dry, and the cabin was toasty warm, but Tate couldn’t help noticing the occasional shiver that continued to rack through Reno’s lean frame as he sat curled up on the couch under two throw blankets. Of course, the man had been wearing jeans when he’d fallen in the snow. That was the worst, Tate knew from experience, and though he’d only planned to be in the cabin for one night, he had brought a pair of snow pants with him. Just in case. He would never have imagined “just in case” would include building snow people and having snowball fights, but it couldn’t have been a more perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Reno had been quiet since they’d returned to the cabin too. Tate didn’t know what had happened between the snowball fights and their return—except for the almost-kiss. Was that what had changed his mood?
Tate nudged Reno’s foot to get his attention. “You okay over there?”
“Yeah.” Reno nodded and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His smile flipped over into a frown. “Can’t through to my dad again though. I queued up a new text, so hopefully, I can get another signal around here long enough for it to send.”
“I’m sure everyone has heard the news by now and knows the hotel is okay,” Tate reassured.
“Yeah. Maybe,” Reno replied quietly.
Tate didn’t know what to do to ease Reno’s worry, not without crossing boundaries. What hewantedto do was pull Reno into his arms, rest his chin on Reno’s head, and let him know everything would be fine. Even though they shared an almost-moment during the snowball fight, would Reno appreciate the gesture now?
Tate’s dilemma was averted by a growl that emanated from Reno’s stomach, loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire in the wood stove. Reno’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth popped open.
“Sorry!” Reno’s cheeks pinked in the most adorable way.
“No worries.” Tate chuckled and stood up. “How about we head over to the hotel and see what they’ve got for dinner.”
Reno groaned and burrowed deeper into the blankets. “Don’t you have more food here?”
Tate shook his head. “Only breakfast fixings. I’d only planned on being here the one night.”
“Right.”
With a heavy sigh, Reno stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He’d stripped down to his briefs when they’d returned to the cabin so his jeans and shirt could dry by the fire. Tate had given him a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt to wear, and he couldn’t deny how much he liked seeing Reno in his clothes. The shirt rode up, and the sweats hung low on Reno’s hips, revealing a band of exposed skin dissected by a sweet little treasure trail of dark hair. Tate swallowed. Hard.
Reno dropped his arms. The shirt fell back into place like curtains at the end of a live stage performance. Instead of leaving the room to change, like he had earlier, Reno shucked Tate’s clothes and pulled his jeans on right there in front of the fire. Tate licked his lips, eyes glued to Reno’s perfectly shaped butt and firm thighs. He nearly groaned aloud in dismay when the enticing view disappeared behind the worn denim.
“Don’t perv unless you mean it.” Reno was grinning over his shoulder, but Tate caught a note of warning in Reno’s voice. Or maybe it was a challenge.
“I always mean it,” Tate said, not so much surprised by how low and husky the words had come out of his mouth but by how much he meant it.
Reno froze.
The fire crackled louder, and the wall clock in the kitchen tick-tocked a steady rhythm.
Reno’s stomach voiced its opinion again.
