almost laughed aloud at his oh-so-innocent face. “I think you know very well what I’m talking about.”
Noah turned to Molly, his innocent, bewildered expression endearingly exaggerated. “Do you know what she’s talking about, Molly?”
Molly’s gaze darted once more between the two adults, and Claire’s heart twisted to see the slight confusion on the girl’s features, as if she wasn’t used to this kind of teasing, but she thought she might like it.
“No,” she finally said. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Okay, then,” Claire said. “I guess it was my mistake.” She gave them both a lingering look, and saw something flare in Noah’s eyes. Relief that she was playing along, for Molly’s sake? Or something else, something deeper, that she was already feeling in herself?
Don’t fall for him, Claire. It will go nowhere.
It’s just a snowball fight.
She heard the two separate voices in her head, the battle of her conscience, and decided, for the moment anyway, to ignore both.
She turned back to the car and as fast as she could, scooped up some snow, packed it into a ball, and then whirled around, flinging it towards Noah just as she saw him tossing an armful towards her.
“Argh!” Snow hit her full in the face and she wiped it away, her cheeks stinging from the cold, her eyes streaming. Her snowball, she saw, had landed harmlessly on Noah’s chest, dusting his coat with snow. “Now you’re asking for it,” she said, and reached for more snow.
After that, things got pretty silly. All three of them started flinging snow, and Claire could hear Noah’s trash-talking her—you call that throwing ?—and Molly’s sudden squeals of laughter. Both warmed her heart, even as her body froze under Noah’s onslaught of well-aimed missiles.
After about fifteen minutes, she finally begged for mercy, cowering behind her mostly-uncovered car while Noah stood above her, hands on his hips, and Molly jumped up and down, more animated than Claire had ever seen her.
Claire glanced up at them both through her fingers, her hands covering her face. “And I thought you’d come out here to help me,” she said in a mock whimper.
“Your car is uncovered, isn’t it?” Noah answered.
He reached down to help her up, and Claire couldn’t suppress the sparks that shot up her arm as she slid her gloved hand in his. She didn’t even want to.
He pulled her up easily and she let go of his hand with reluctance, yet also as quickly as she could.
This was all getting just a little too cozy, and yet she craved it, the closeness, the fun, even the excitement. When had she last laughed like this? Not since Mark, certainly.
“Mostly uncovered,” she told him with a nod towards her car, and with a few broad sweeps of his arm Noah had the rest of the snow off of it. “You want me to reverse it out of the bank?” he asked and although feminist pride made Claire tempted to say she could do it, she’d rather he did.
“Yes, please.”
Minutes later Noah had her car in the middle of the road, facing the right direction. No reason, then, not to go home and curl up by the fire, mark a few essays.
And that sounds like so much fun . But perhaps a needed return to normality.
“Well, thank you for rescuing my car,” she said, “even if you did soak me in the process. I’ll leave you to get your Christmas tree.” With an awkward little wave for them both Claire started towards her car.
Molly’s wobbly voice stopped her in her tracks. “But aren’t you coming with us?”
Chapter Six
‡
C laire turned around to see Molly looking woebegone, and Noah clearly alarmed as he glanced down at his daughter.
“Claire’s busy, Molly—”
Molly’s face had closed up, her mouth pinched. She nodded once, accepting this explanation without a single argument, and that was what made Claire change her mind. If Molly had whined or pitched a fit, she might have been able to dismiss it as schoolgirl
Noah turned to Molly, his innocent, bewildered expression endearingly exaggerated. “Do you know what she’s talking about, Molly?”
Molly’s gaze darted once more between the two adults, and Claire’s heart twisted to see the slight confusion on the girl’s features, as if she wasn’t used to this kind of teasing, but she thought she might like it.
“No,” she finally said. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Okay, then,” Claire said. “I guess it was my mistake.” She gave them both a lingering look, and saw something flare in Noah’s eyes. Relief that she was playing along, for Molly’s sake? Or something else, something deeper, that she was already feeling in herself?
Don’t fall for him, Claire. It will go nowhere.
It’s just a snowball fight.
She heard the two separate voices in her head, the battle of her conscience, and decided, for the moment anyway, to ignore both.
She turned back to the car and as fast as she could, scooped up some snow, packed it into a ball, and then whirled around, flinging it towards Noah just as she saw him tossing an armful towards her.
“Argh!” Snow hit her full in the face and she wiped it away, her cheeks stinging from the cold, her eyes streaming. Her snowball, she saw, had landed harmlessly on Noah’s chest, dusting his coat with snow. “Now you’re asking for it,” she said, and reached for more snow.
After that, things got pretty silly. All three of them started flinging snow, and Claire could hear Noah’s trash-talking her—you call that throwing ?—and Molly’s sudden squeals of laughter. Both warmed her heart, even as her body froze under Noah’s onslaught of well-aimed missiles.
After about fifteen minutes, she finally begged for mercy, cowering behind her mostly-uncovered car while Noah stood above her, hands on his hips, and Molly jumped up and down, more animated than Claire had ever seen her.
Claire glanced up at them both through her fingers, her hands covering her face. “And I thought you’d come out here to help me,” she said in a mock whimper.
“Your car is uncovered, isn’t it?” Noah answered.
He reached down to help her up, and Claire couldn’t suppress the sparks that shot up her arm as she slid her gloved hand in his. She didn’t even want to.
He pulled her up easily and she let go of his hand with reluctance, yet also as quickly as she could.
This was all getting just a little too cozy, and yet she craved it, the closeness, the fun, even the excitement. When had she last laughed like this? Not since Mark, certainly.
“Mostly uncovered,” she told him with a nod towards her car, and with a few broad sweeps of his arm Noah had the rest of the snow off of it. “You want me to reverse it out of the bank?” he asked and although feminist pride made Claire tempted to say she could do it, she’d rather he did.
“Yes, please.”
Minutes later Noah had her car in the middle of the road, facing the right direction. No reason, then, not to go home and curl up by the fire, mark a few essays.
And that sounds like so much fun . But perhaps a needed return to normality.
“Well, thank you for rescuing my car,” she said, “even if you did soak me in the process. I’ll leave you to get your Christmas tree.” With an awkward little wave for them both Claire started towards her car.
Molly’s wobbly voice stopped her in her tracks. “But aren’t you coming with us?”
Chapter Six
‡
C laire turned around to see Molly looking woebegone, and Noah clearly alarmed as he glanced down at his daughter.
“Claire’s busy, Molly—”
Molly’s face had closed up, her mouth pinched. She nodded once, accepting this explanation without a single argument, and that was what made Claire change her mind. If Molly had whined or pitched a fit, she might have been able to dismiss it as schoolgirl
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