Page 37 of The Christmas Romance Wish

“Charlie Juliet?” he says, using the military alphabet I’ve gotten familiar with since starting this project.

“Chip Junior. He was named after my grandfather. Sort of. My grandfather was Carlos Almeida, but everyone called him Chip, including us kids.”

“Sounds like a larger-than-life kind of guy.”

“You can say that again.”

“Then there was you.”

“CJ and I are barely eighteen months apart. For a few weeks, when he was twenty-seven, I was twenty-six, but he recently had a birthday, so now he’s twenty-eight.”

“Practically twins.”

I gaze at my hands, wondering if I should say the next part. My voice is small when the words tiptoe out. “I also had a twin, but she didn’t make it.”

Alex repositions in his seat so he’s facing me. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That makes me the baby, but CJ isn’t spared as the youngest brother. Because of what happened to Colleen, and because I’m the only girl, and—” I hiccup, stopping myself from saying the rest about losing my parents. “My brothers are fiercely protective. Overprotective.”

Alex glances out the window and then back at me. “You’re in good hands. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and mutters about having to clear the tailpipe and make sure the running lights are visible, then gets out of the Jeep.

I shiver and hiccup, feeling very much like a city girl, completely unequipped to deal with things like avalanches even though I pride myself on being super independent.

Moments later, the passenger side door opens and Alex signals we get in the back.

“I have a special, thermal blanket that’s insulated, but we’ll have to share it.”

I slide across the seat as he seals us inside.

My teeth chatter with my continued hiccups.

He unfolds a silver piece of what looks like space cloth, something aliens would offer when you board their ship and prepare for flight.

My fingers are stiff and I wrap it around me, scooting a little closer to Alex, but only because I’m so cold. Mostly.

“Our body heat will help,” he adds.

I take this as an invitation to scootch even closer.

Dylann loves romcoms where the love interests get stranded together or have to navigate what to do when there is only one bed in a very specificset of circumstances.

Seems like one of those times. “What about sharing a single blanket?”

“Huh?” Alex asks.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just thinking out loud.”

And hopefully, that’s where my discourse ends because there’s a lot to say about Alex seated beside me, the two of us zipped together like two seams of the same jacket.

He’s solid whereas I’m squishy.

He radiates heat while that snowman back at the coffee shop is laughing at me.

Alex is probably thinking about the ninety-nine ways we’re going to survive while all I want are his lips on mine, especially if I’m going to turn into an icicle and take my last breath out here.

Is that so wrong?

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