“I don’t want this deal going to your head.”
“Don’t worry. I’m under no illusions you’ll be an easy nut to crack.”
“Good.”
“But you shouldn’t let this deal go to your head, either.”
“Why?”
She spun on him, her long hair whipping waves of cinnamon and evergreen-scented air Clark’s way. It stunned him as she leaned in close, too close for comfort. Not that he minded. With her this close and this mockingly intense, he could count the millions of near-gold flecks in her eyes and feel her puffing breath on his lips.
“Because you’ll find I’m a very persistent gal.”
“I already know that,” he whispered, too low for her to hear, a fact he was grateful for. If she heard him, she might discover that I already know that was code for something else, an electric hum that stirred inside him every time she said his name.
Unfazed, she stretched her arms out. Arms open wide as if to hug the scenery around her, she tilted her head back and breathed. This place held nothing but anxiety and headaches for Clark, but Kate was perfectly at peace. Out here, away from the distractions of the Christmas lights and the electric bill no doubt climbing, he beheld her. Every soft curve of her beautiful face glowed against this frigid terrain. She smiled even as frozen raindrops slid down her skin. A cold would no doubt be in both of their futures if Clark didn’t usher them back to the house soon.
A cold seemed a small price to pay to get to see Kate like this, surrounded by silver rain falling down in thin sheets against the emeralds and ambers of the woods towering around them. Set against this backdrop, she reminded him of a princess in a fairy story, one raised so deep in the forest she didn’t even know she was royalty.
“This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he breathed, never once glancing at the scenery. He was too wrapped up in her. “I guess it is.”
“You guess? Don’t you know?”
“I don’t like these woods. Haven’t since I was a kid. I got lost in them once.”
The memories of that day still haunted him. He prayed she wouldn’t pry.
“And…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing in cautious suspicion, “you still came out to look for me?”
“It was the logical thing to do.”
It wasn’t only logical, but Kate didn’t push. In the fashion of a distracted hummingbird, Kate broke the tenuous emotional connection between them. She changed the subject with surprising deftness, adopting a half-bent pose to examine his feet.
“What’re your shoes like?”
“What?” An unapproved laugh escaped. How had he gotten from wanting to sweep her into his arms and kiss her in the middle of a drizzle to being asked about the quality of his shoes?
“Let me have a look at them,” she demanded, bending down even further to pick up one of his legs. Clark gripped the nearest tree for support when his left leg was hoisted unceremoniously in the air. If Kate were any other woman, if this were any other day, and if he hadn’t struck that deal, fury would have ruled him.
It was, however much he resented it, Christmas Eve. He did make a deal. And the woman holding his leg in the air was Kate, this strange, smiley, fireplace of a woman who weaseled her way behind his defenses.
“Why do you need to look at my shoes?”
She dropped his left leg and reached for his right. A sudden wave of embarrassment gripped Clark by the scruff of the neck, digging cold, sharp nails into the skin beneath his hairline. These shoes were—he mentally counted backwards—about twenty years old. He’d watched countless YouTube tutorials on cobbling so he could fix them up and keep them instead of spending a few hundred bucks on a new pair. Besides, they were his father’s shoes. He didn’t want to just throw them away. Could she tell they were holding together with shoe glue and a prayer?
“I need to make sure they’ve got enough grip on them.”
“Okay. Wait, grip on them for what?”
Clunk. His right leg hit the ground, returning him to even footing. Kate rose, her cheeks flushed from the weather and whatever excitement bubbled behind that skull of hers. Having spent approximately zero time out in freezing rain before, the pink tint of her skin concerned him. His obliging attitude was going to land both of them in the hospital with a horrible flu or something.
Though he couldn’t deny, at least to himself, how beautiful she was. With her hair now damp from the rain and her clothes sticking to her skin, a woman who should have looked like a drowned cat ended up glowing in the hazy sunlight like a beached siren. She kicked her own shoes against the nearest tree trunk, knocking out clumps of dirt and mud from between the treads. Her pink cheeks and nose belonged on a romantic Christmas card. Clark’s confusion only grew.
“Are you up for an adventure?” she asked.
“Uh…” As much as he relished the golden thrill streaking through her gaze, he didn’t like the sound of the word adventure on her red lips. “Not really. Why do you ask?”
Once again, Kate opened her arms to the scenery, only this time she didn’t relish it or show it off. Clark followed her gaze out into the clearing before them. It was only now, with his attention fully focused on it, he realized this wasn’t a clearing at all.
They’d reached the river.
“There’s a family of cardinals across the water. Can you hear them?”
“Yes, but—”
“When I was a kid, one of my teachers used to hand-paint these Christmas cards with cardinals in snowy trees. We don’t get snow here, but we’ve got to see if we can spot them.”
Oh, no. Her voice recovered its bell-like ring, the same bell-like ring it got every time she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. A snake of panic slithered down Clark’s spine as she inched towards the long
