Page 47 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

He’s not having it. He glares up at me as if I personally betrayed him.

“I’m just going to watch,” he mutters, starting to crawl toward the edge.

But I’m not having it. Not today.

I take his gloved hand, pulling him back toward the center of the rink. “You don’t get to quit. Come on. It’s just you, me, and the ice. Let’s do this.”

He gives me the most skeptical look I’ve ever seen. “If I fall again?—”

“Whenyou fall again,” I correct, chuckling. “But this time, I’ll make sure I catch you.”

I drag him a few more feet, my excitement fueling his resistance. But then, of course, when I think I’m starting to get him to loosen up, my foot catches and, whoops,Ibegin to fall.

I can practically hear thethwackof the ice coming for me, and I brace for impact. But before I even hit the ground, Ryder’s there, his strong arms reaching out to catch me, pulling me back into him with surprising ease.

It’s only a moment, but it could be a lifetime. Our bodies come together with a soft, breathlessthud, our cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.

We stand there for a second, just staring at each other, breathing the same frosty air. His grip on me tightens, and I can feel the tension in his chest as he pulls me up, but it’s not just about saving me from falling.

He’s holding onto something else, too.

I blink, suddenly aware of the way our faces are so close, the way his breath mingles with mine in a perfect, cloud-like fog.

And then we both start to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but real laughter. The kind that bubbles up unexpectedly, the kind you can’t stop once it starts.

I’m floating, the sound of his laughter mixing with mine, filling the space between us. Ryder, RyderHale, the man who’s been nothing but business and grumpiness, laughing, cheeks flushed, eyes brighter than I’ve ever seen them.

We both stumble a little as we regain our balance, still chuckling like a couple of teenagers caught in the middle of a snowball fight. I wipe a stray tear from my cheek, and his smile softens.

“You’re not as bad at this as you think,” I tease, still feeling a little light-headed. “Just don’t go falling again.”

“Funny,” he mutters, but there’s warmth in his voice now, something less guarded.

I give him a knowing look. “Come on, let’s keep going. We can’t stop now.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ryder

December 7th

We windup in the North End, tucked into a cozy little Italian spot that’s got more character in its cracks than most places do in their entire existence.

It’s intimate, warm, the kind of place that might have been here forever. Just the right kind of setting for a night I never expected to have.

The waiter comes over, and without thinking, I slip into Italian. “Un antipasto misto, per favore, e un piatto di pappardelle al ragù di cinghiale. Per il vino, una bottiglia di Chianti Classico.”

Sunny’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. I can almost feel the playful jab coming before she says it.

“Well, look at you,” she says, leaning back in her chair, that teasing smile creeping up at the corner of her mouth. “Got a secret language now? What else don’t I know about you?”

I grin, leaning back and matching her tone. “Too many secrets, Sunny. But don’t worry, you’ll find them out eventually.”

She laughs, but there’s that glint in her eyes again. Curiosity. She’s starting to peel back a few layers.

“You speak Italian, you’re the Christmas Prince… I’m starting to think you’ve led a much more interesting life than you let on.”

She orders in English, and the waiter leaves to put our order in.