"Sure you do," he said with heavy sarcasm.
Didn’t I? I tried to think of the last time I'd laughed out of joy before today. I smiled at the animals and was pleasant with my clients, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something for fun that had drawn an honest laugh out of me. Rather than admit that, I gathered the packaging from the decorations that were still on the counter. Spencer took them from me, his movements always gentle. "I feel like the last time I saw you really laugh without reserve was high school."
I rolled my tongue along the inside of my cheek. I knew why that was, but it wasn't anything that would add to the Christmas cheer. Spencer threw the trash away, but a peek over his shoulder gave him a perfect view of my brooding expression.He straightened, resting his hands on his hips. "Something happened."
I shrugged, folding my arms and leaning against the counter. "High school kids are rough."
"Not all of them," he argued, mirroring my pose. We were both facing the Christmas tree, and something about the damn thing in my living room seemed to be lowering my shields. The gates were open, and Spencer was successfully storming the castle.
I sighed, looking down at my fluffy socks. "I had a couple of friends who, I found out the hard way, were more interested in being associated with my parents' money than with me."
I knew Spencer got it because we went to the same private school, and although his mom had left his wealthy father, he'd still had his share of "trust fund baby" jokes lobbed his way. "Been there."
I chewed on the tender skin on the inside of my cheek. "We went on a skiing trip, and when I refused to buy them a bunch of shit, they got nasty." My body suddenly remembered that evening—the elated joy of the trip and the sudden descent into terrified misery when my friends had confronted me at the top of the ski hill. "They said some nasty things when we were finishing up our last run of the day."
"You don't actually have money. Bunch of fucking posers."
"Who pretends to be rich? That’s so fucking embarrassing. You might as well put yourself out of your misery now."
I swallowed, trying to banish their cruel taunts. "They told me to wait until they were at the bottom of the hill because they didn't want me near them."
Spencer's arms tightened, and I looked up to see his expression darken dangerously. "You never told me this."
"I haven't told anyone." I released a sharp breath. "Anyway, I don't know, I was seventeen. I was all dramatic about it and ran through the woods like a moron. A snowstorm blew inunexpectedly, and I lost my way. They found me hypothermic, like ten yards from the ski lift. I just couldn't see through the whiteout."
Spencer unfolded his arms like he wanted to reach for me, but he balled his hands into fists instead. "Bee, you didn't tell this to anyone? Why? What about Knox?"
I released a scratchy laugh. "What was he going to do? Insult them? It was what it was. And it's embarrassing more than anything."Howling wind and biting cold that slowly melted into dangerous, warm exhaustion.I shivered involuntarily. "I'm over it now. It's fine." It wasn't fine, but there was only so much weakness I could expose at one time.
Spencer came around to face me, and his hands landed on my arms tentatively, treating me like a skittish foal. He gathered some amusement on his handsome features, squeezing my arms. "Well, if that's what made you stop laughing, then I'm glad my Frankenstein tree could start it up again."
I snorted. "Idolaugh. I've just been sick."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Well, I wouldn't say I'll be doing anyexcessiveexercise," I teased. "But, yeah. I'm feeling better."
"Excessive, huh?" Spencer's gingerbread eyes traveled from my disheveled hair to my oversized sweater and faded leggings. "Butlightexercise. You could handle being a little breathless?"
Breathless?My stomach fluttered and my eyes widened a bit. There was no way Spencer was actually hitting on me right now—he was messing with me. I recovered quickly, coughing into my elbow. "I'm sure if I needed some light exercise, I could survive it. In fact, you should probably just let me go back to work tomorrow."
"Ah, Bee," Spencer chastised, moving in closer. "That's not the kind of exercise I mean." He put one hand on the counter besideme and the other lifted to sweep a pink lock of my hair away from my eyes.
My lips opened, but my breath froze in my lungs and nothing came out. Heat spiraled in my chest, threatening to plunge down low and radiate from my skin with a pink blush. He was way too good at mocking me—he knew very well that I didn't do any “exercising.” I let my ire wash away the onslaught of desire he'd unleashed, and I pressed my lips together, craning my neck back to hold his warm gaze. "I think we both know I don't exercise."
His eyelids flickered. "You did pretty well a year ago."
I let out a drowning sound. "Are you seriously bringing that up right now?"
His lips pressed as he shrugged subtly. "I didn't know we were ignoring it. Does it make you uncomfortable to think about fucking me?"
My face went woodstove hot. "Spencer," I choked.
He was too close, too all-consuming with his height and towering frame. The warmth from the planes of his stomach heated my belly, and the smell of his citrus cologne mingled delightfully with the pine in the air. His eyes were drinking me in, quenching a thirst I couldn't begin to understand, which only mesmerized me further. He tilted his head in question. "Do you want me to forget it happened?"
Did I? I thought we had. But it was only at that moment that I realized how deeplydepressingit had been to force myself to pretend it hadn't happened. Having sex with Spencer had been a highlight of my life, a sunbeam in a dark forest that had lit up my world for one brief moment. Pretending that light had never existed had been suffocating. I swallowed, taking in the sharp lines of his shadowed jaw and the perfect shape of his bronze lips. "I don't know," I answered honestly.
He hummed in thought, bending closer so his lips skimmed my temple. "Funny. I can't stop thinking about it—might be hard to pretend it never happened."