"You were in there? I don't remember."

"I was." He looked at me and gave a small smile.

"It took me a second to register that it was you involved, London," Trent said. "That was way out of character for you. Once I saw Pratt had a hold of you I had to use my hockey stick to pull Hannah away. She tried hitting me with that bottle again once I released her."

"Well, it wasn't like I was shanking her in the stands or throwing punches, I was trying to get the glass bottle away from her. Besides, we'll always have that memory as one of the most exciting family outings ever."

I looked at Pratt when I said it. His lips tightened into a thin line and curled slightly at the corners, then he gave a little nod.

Did we just have a moment? I think we just had a moment.

We all laughed at the memory, and talked some more while we finished up dinner. I threw a piece of crust over the side to Tuna because he looked so pathetic down on the ground floor all alone. Then I helped Mom clean up, and we headed back to the house.

It was nearly six o'clock and the snow was still coming down pretty heavy. I watched Pratt play with Tuna in the snow, then went inside. The guys ended up staying outside to snow blow and salt the driveway and porch. I heard the snowmobile start up, and looked out the window to see my dad come around with the plow attached. Then I saw Pratt come up on the porch, sweeping away the last of the snow that had drifted in.

He turned to pick up the container of salt, and saw me watching him. When we made eye contact, my stomach felt like bingo balls were flying around in there. He winked and began salting. He had on a brown and mustard colored flannel and his hat was turned backwards. As I watched him work, I could see his muscles straining against the sleeves at times. His back was to me so I had a clear view of him from behind. I was looking at Eighty-Six in an entirely new light. He wasn't the typical jock college guy I'd convinced myself he was before I'd even gotten to know him. He was sort of sweet and charming, and he had a fun side too.

Damn, Lola would be proud of me.

We stayed snowed in for the next few days. We had plenty of food and nowhere to be, so we all just hunkered down. We watched TV, played cards and board games . . . you know, all that hokey fun shit you'd do as a kid, except now we could drink wine while we played UNO and Jenga. I went out and rode my snowmobile, and played with Tuna in the snow. I loved the snow. I loved the cold. I loved everything about the holidays.

One afternoon, Trent and Pratt joined me. Pratt was betting he could hang onto the tube attached to the back of my snowbie longer than me. He didn't know who he was messing withI was the reigning champ in the family. Seven minutes, fourteen seconds I'd hung on to that bad boy, as my brother attempted to sidewind and shake me off in multiple directions. We had a trophy and everything. Well, not so much a trophy as one of those blow-up pool tubes. Whatever, it was mine. And there was no way in hell I was letting Pratt take the title from me.

"Alright, smart-ass. You think you can beat me? Trent . . . hook him up."

"Fine by me, Princess," Pratt shot back. "You'll never shake meI'm too strong, and you're not an aggressive enough driver. Remember, I've seen you in action." He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

"You wish," I went back at him, and laughed. I changed my gloves as Trent made sure the tube was properly inflated and the back bumper cover was secure, just in case I stopped and Pratt slid into it.

My mom and dad joined us. I believe I heard my father say he was going to enjoy seeing the record being broken. Mom cheered me on, while Tuna was just being Tuna, barking and playing in the snow.

"Ready Eighty-Six?" I taunted him, as I took a seat on the snowbie.

"Bring it on, prissy-pants," he answered with a smirk.

"Oh, don't you worry. You'll be begging me for mercy by the time I'm finished with you." I cracked my knuckles in a cheesy fake attempt to be tough.

He bent over just close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath against my ear, and spoke in a deep, even, sexy-as-hell tone. "Don't tease me, London."

Oh shit . . . Eighty-Six has game. Damn. An odd feelingangst, I supposeran through my veins, eventually reaching my cheeks and making them heat up. He smiled his irritatingly adorable dimple smile as he walked backwards towards the tube . . . never taking his eyes off of me.

I snapped out of whatever the fuck had just happened to me, and jumped and kick-started the snowbie. I pulled my goggles over my eyes and then revved the engine good a few times. I looked back at Pratt to see him sprawled on top of the tube with a hold on each handle.

Amateur. He won't last two minutes that way.

I waited in anticipation for the 'ready' signal. I couldn't wait to dump his ass on turn three. Not an aggressive driver? He had no idea that not only am I a tubing champ, but I'm also a certified Search and Rescuer for the local Mountie chapter. When people get stuck cross-country skiing, or hurt while coming down the mountain, I go up to help retrieve them. You have to be a skilled driver for thatone mistake on an incline or descent, and you'd be fucked seven ways to Sunday.

Pratt gave the signal, and I popped it into first and took off. Tuna chased us down the driveway until we approached the edge of the woods. I cut a hard right about fifty feet from the tree line, so that he seemed to be heading straight into a tree, but I knew he'd swing out and get pulled back in just shy of a trunk or two. I heard him shout and I laughed, never looking back. Once the barn was in sight, I turned right againa bit easier, so he wouldn't hit the snow-covered fire pitthen I zig-zagged him back and forth, headed to the back of the house around the barn. When I hit the barn I cut a sharp left and sent him out wide to his right, nearly clipping my dad's vintage '62 Chevy. Oops, that's a tetanus shot waiting to happen. Then I glanced down at the timer on my dash. Three minutes so far.

I had to step it up, so I took him around the barn again, cutting back towards the clearing by the house and over the small snow pile that lined the path out to the barn and shed. I hit it full throttle again, to make sure I had enough speed for us both to clear it safely, and hit the jump. As the snowbie's front end went up, I heard Pratt yell something, and I slowed down to give him ample time to land. I didn't want to yank the tube out from under him and have his arms go with it, leaving his body behind. When he hit the ground he bounced once, twice, three times, then rolled off the tube into another snow pile.

I stood up, turned back around and flipped on the high beam so I could see him. His nose was bleeding. Ahhh, fuck.

"You okay?" I shouted. I cut the engine and hopped off, grabbing the first aid kit I kept in my seat compartment. He rolled onto his back, holding his face, and without even thinking I went into action. There was a pile of snow on one side, so I was lacking space to work on him. I put down my kit and scooped up a handful of snow, before straddling him.

"Let me see, Eighty-Six." I tugged at his hands in an attempt to pull them away from his face, and put the packed snow on his nose. I could see the blood dripping down his cheeks from both sides, and a small cut over his right eye. That was the least of my worries at that point. I could hear my brother calling from a distance, and my mother telling my father to go get a towel and a blanket.

"He busted his face, he isn't giving birth, Mom," I muttered under my breath, but I guess loud enough for Pratt to hear me, because he laughed.

"Well that's a good signyou're responsive. Did you hit your head, or just your face?" I asked him as I took off my jacket and put it under his head.

"Both," he responded.

While I took out what I needed from the kit, I began asking him the routine questions you should always ask when it comes to head trauma.

"What's your name?"

"Pratt Montgomery."

"How old are you?" I cracked the icepack and shook it up to get cold.

"Twenty-three . . . and a half."

"Where are you?" I brushed what was left of the slushy snow from his nose and placed the ice pack over it.

"Heaven." He smiled, even with the blood running across his face. I rolled my eyes and placed rolled gauze under the ice pack, and told him to pinch the bridge if he could for a second.

"What's today's date?"

"I don't know, but when I find out it's going down as the best day of my life." He grinned again.

"Alright, I think you're as fine as you're going to get in the head department." I chuckled and stood up.

"Dude, you ate shit. You okay?" Trent reached us, laughing.

Pratt sat up on one elbow. "Yeah man, your sister put me on my ass."

I stood over him, still watching to make sure he was okay. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He laughed as my brother helped him up to his feet.

"Careful . . ." I put my hands on each side of his waist to make sure he was steady. "For going so rough. I shouldn't have."

"London, I'm a hockey player, I can handle it," he said. "Plus, it was kinda hot to see you in competitive mode like that."

"Don't think I won't drop you on your ass, man. That's my sister, not some hockey ho," Trent joked.

"Right, right," Pratt agreed, and winked at me.

Mom had just made it to us, and my dad was right behind her, walking over to my snowbie.

"Pratt, sweetie," Mom said. "Are you okay? London, I can't believe you went all out on him like that. You should have known better. Do you need to go to the hospital?" Her words rushed out in a quick string.

"Nah, I think I'll be alright, Mrs. S. Nothing broken," Pratt replied. "Could have been a lot worse."

My dad asked if Pratt was okay, and my mom gave him a thumbs up. Such dorks, but I love them. My dad hopped on the snowbie and started it up, then took off towards the barn. The rest of us headed carefully for the house, taking it slow for Pratt.

As we approached the back door, Pratt asked me to stay behind for a sec, and Trent looked back at us.

"L, you cool?" he asked.

"She's fine, man. Like I'd ever put the mack on your sister," Pratt laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't," Trent smirked.

"Come on, inside. Leave them be." My mom guided him towards the door. "You know she could do a lot worse than Pratt," I heard her tell him in a really loud whisper.

I laughed and turned to Pratt. "What's up?"

"Thank you," he said.

"Um, you're welcome? And you couldn't tell me that inside why?" I joked.

"I guess I just like how pink your nose is outside." He touched it with his pointer finger and gave me some dimple. His smile was growing on me. Not like it was difficult. He had a great smile, and he was pretty hot.

That dimple will kill me. I'm a sucker for the dimple. And I think I just admitted that he's hot.

"Whatever. I'm just glad you're all right. Let me see that again." I stood on the step so I could be eye-level with him. "You can take the ice pack off now."

I lifted his hand and got in closer to take a better look. "It doesn't look broken, thank God. But we do need to take care of that cut. I'm assuming it's just a cut, because it didn't bleed too much."

I ran my thumb gently across it, and he took my hand then kissed it.

Oh hell, Mr. Montgomery . . . you do have a charming side.

"Alright, Eighty-Six. Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought." I tried my best to sound playful, to try and hide the shakiness of my voice. Fail.

"Nah, my head is right on target." He searched my eyes and I knew at that moment I had it bad. It turned out Eighty-Six was a perfect ten.

Chapter 5.

Having Pratt around was a bunch of things all rolled into one. He was a huge pain in the ass, but also sweet and funny, then annoying as all hell . . . then he'd turn around and make up for all that mess with something genuine. I didn't ask about his family anymore after the night in the loft. I figured he'd talk about it when he was ready.

Christmas was in one week. I hadn't got a single gift yet because of the snow, but the roads were finally cleared, so I needed to get to the mall. Trent and Pratt were out with my dad playing a pick up game at the ice rink with his old rec team, and my mom's friend was picking her up to go to a fundraiser, so she left me the keys to her car. I had the rest of the day all to myself.

After I got out of the shower I started to get dressed, but realized my jeans were in the dryer. I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and ran downstairs to get them. The dryer was still running but I pulled them out anyhow, burning my palm on the button.

"Holy hell, how do these get so damn hot?" I questioned out loud as I walked out of the laundry room to head back upstairs.

As I rounded the corner, I saw a shadow. I froze. Everyone's out. Who the hell is that? Stranger Danger. Stranger Danger. I glanced around me to see if there was something I could pick up and swing at whoever it was. Damn you Trent, for years you left hockey sticks everywhere . . . I swiped the foot-tall wooden drummer boy nutcracker off the counter and lifted it over my head to swing. The next string of events happened in such an unstoppable and rapid succession, I wasn't even sure it was actually happening until it was too late. As I started to swing, I was happy to see it was Pratt and not an intruder, so I stopped mid-swing . . . but my towel had other plans. It dropped to the floor.

I know I wasn't standing there in my panties very long, but it was long enough that Pratt got a glimpse of 'the girls', as well as my ass when I screamed, turned away and bent over to grab the towel. As I bolted up the stairs, without my jeans of course, I heard him call after me. Before I heard the knock on my door I put my T-shirt on and looked for a pair of anything to cover up.

"London. London. It's no biggy. I've seen boobies before. Can I come in?" I could hear the amusement in his voice.

Shit.

"Suck it, Eighty-Six," I called out.

"Just give me the chance," he shot back, and by his tone I could tell he had that stupid adorable grin plastered across his damn face. That grin made my stomach twirl with excitement.

"I have your jeans out here."

"I have another pair. Thanks."

"Open the door, London. Please?"

I knew I shouldn't, but I did. I opened the door slowly and peeked out. When I saw him holding my jeans I opened it all the way. That's when I noticed he was standing there in his boxers and socks. I instantly busted out in laughter and reached to take my jeans from him. But instead of allowing me to take them, he opened his hand and grabbed mine. This was not helping the situation happening in my stomach, amongst other places. Ah shit London . . . steady, girl. I know it's been a while, but focus.

"Thank you. Now go put on your pants, Eighty-Six." I attempted to pull my hand back, but he gripped it just slightly tighter.

He grinned. "Go put your pants on, Princess."

"I'm trying." I tugged at them again.

He pulled his hand back a little harder, causing me to jerk forward against him. I didn't look up right away. I stared at his neck, which I was eye-level with. I could feel my heart racingor maybe it was his. I couldn't tell, we were so close. I knew that if I made eye contact with him, it'd be over. He lowered his right hand and dropped my jeans, then slid his arm around me, stopping at the small of my back. I could feel the trail of his touch still lingering as he pulled me in closer. Oh Lord, his chest . . . his arms . . . his abs . . . his boxers are looking a bit full too. Jesus, London, do something. I ran my hand up his chest and rested it on his shoulder.

"Pratt . . . I," I began, and then stopped. I didn't know what to say. He was rubbing his hand back and forth against my back when he put his forehead against the top of my head.

"I didn't come up here expecting anything, London. In hindsight maybe the whole boxer thing was a bad idea. I thought if I were practically naked you'd feel better about me seeing you. Like we'd be even on the naked playing field type thing. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I didn't intend to give you the impression I expected something from you. I was just trying to make you feel better by doing something funny for you." He began to pull back, but I didn't let him. I looked up, and I could see a glimpse of embarrassment in his eyes.

"You are not an idiot," is all I could muster up before I pulled him down to me and kissed him. I pushed up against him until his back was to the wall, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I was on my tippy toes, so when I started to lose my balance he ran his hands down my back, allowing them to linger on my ass for a few seconds before sliding them down a little bit further and grabbing the backs of my thighs. He squeezed with just enough pressure to pick me up, sending my insides into a frenzy. When he moved away from the wall I wrapped my legs around him, and he walked us into my room.

I pushed the door shut behind him, and then ran my fingers through his hair until I had two handfuls of it. When we got to the bed I let go of him and climbed in. He groaned with pleasure and stood over me as I lay there awaiting his touch, in utter pleasure mixed with the pure ache of wanting him.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the day I laid eyes on you, London," he whispered, practically out of breath. "If this gets to be too much, just say the word. I don't need you thinking that this was my plan all along." He looked so seriousno dimple, not even a trace of a smile.

Does he think I don't want this? I do, but . . . all right, here goes.

"Let's just keep it NC-17 for tonight, okay?" I suggested. "That way there's no pressure or mixed signals."

He was quiet for a moment or two, then he smirked and shook his head.