Quinn Preston's kiss was incredibly light, a fleeting touch of warmth.
Sophie Sheridan froze for a moment. It wasn't the first time she had tasted snow, but it had always been cold before.
Before she could even savor its warmth, he had already pulled away.
It was a fleeting touch, and Sophie Sheridan was still amazed. In her eyes, Quinn Preston was the epitome of a gentleman—reserved and gentle—who would never kiss her under such circumstances.
She had been in a good mood all day, and because of the sudden kiss, her heart gave an unexpected flutter.
Sophie Sheridan was well-versed in the standard romantic playbook. She knew that tying a scarf for someone on a snowy day was the perfect setup for a kiss, but it felt awkward when it was her and Quinn Preston.
"Still want to watch the snow?" Quinn Preston's expression was deceptively calm, his voice as gentle as ever.
