Page 12 of Snowed in with a Grinch

She somehow moves closer.

“You know what I think?”

“What's that?” I try to keep working on the generator, but it's nearly impossible with my hands aching to reach out and touch her, to pull her back into my arms and kiss her until there isn’t an ounce of chill within either of our bones.

“I think you're actually pretty amazing.” Her fingers trail down my arm, and now my dick wants to join in with the touching, too. “The way you care for those plants, how passionate you get when you talk about them. The gentle way you handle them, even when you're worried...”

Her words hit something deep inside me, something I've kept carefully walled off. I turn to face her fully, finding her much closer than expected.

“You don't know me,” I say roughly, but I can't seem to step away.

“I'd like to.” She tilts her head, studying me with those perceptive eyes. “Why does that seem to scare you so much?”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Because…” The word hangs in the air, laden with unspoken fears. “Because I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

“Then tell me who you are,” she urges, stepping closer still, a daring glint in her warm brown eyes.

“Do you really want to know?” My hands grip the screwdriver too tightly, knuckles white against the handle as I struggle with words I haven't spoken aloud in years. I'm not sure if I'm readyto lay myself bare in this moment, but something in her gaze compels me.

“Yes,” she whispers, and the gentleness in her voice makes my chest ache. “Why do you really stay up here alone, Sawyer? What are you hiding from?”

I stay silent for a long moment, focusing on adjusting wires that don't need adjusting. My shoulders are tight with tension, and I can't bring myself to meet her eyes, afraid of what she might see.

“People leave,” I finally say, the words feeling raw in my throat. Each syllable costs me something, breaks down another brick in the wall I've built around myself. “Plants don't. They need you, depend on you. They don't just... disappear one day and never come back.” My voice catches on the last word, and I have to clear my throat.

“Is that what happened? Someone disappeared?”

The generator hums to life before I have to answer, but Noelle doesn't let me retreat into silence. She takes my hand again, her warm fingers threading through my cold ones, tugging until I have no choice but to face her. The understanding in her eyes is almost too much to bear.

“Well, I'm right here. I won’t disappear,” she says simply, those brown eyes searching mine in the dim light. Her free hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my thundering heart. “What are you going to do to convince me to stay?”

The challenge in her voice makes my pulse spike, but it's the vulnerability beneath her brave words that undoes me. She's offering herself—not just physically, but emotionally—knowing I might push her away. Knowing I probably should.

I cover her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my chest so she can feel how fast my heart is beating. Her breath catches, and I watch the pulse flutter in her throat. The small space seems to shrink around us, charged with possibility.

“Noelle.” Her name comes out like a warning, or maybe a prayer. “You don't know what you're asking for.”

“I'm asking for you.” She steps closer, tilting her face up to mine. “The real you. Not the grumpy mountain man act, not the careful gardener—just you, Sawyer. Whatever that means.”

My free hand moves to cup her face, fingers brushing along her jaw. She shivers. “I'm not good at letting people in.”

“I noticed.” A small smile plays at her lips. “But you're not pushing me away either.”

She's right. Despite every instinct screaming at me to retreat, to protect myself, my body betrays me by drawing her closer. The warmth of her seeps through my clothes, and the scent of her making my head spin.

“Noelle,” I murmur, leaning down until our foreheads touch. “I'm tired of being alone.”

NOELLE

We kiss our way from the generator room and back to the cabin, practically falling through the front door in our urgency, a tangle of limbs and laughter. It feels like my whole life has been leading to this moment - to him, to us, to this perfect collision of Christmas magic and destiny.

The transition from bitter cold to warmth is dizzying—or maybe that's just the effect of Sawyer's kisses. Snow clings to every inch of us, melting quickly in the cabin's heat and creating puddles at our feet. The contrast of frigid clothes and heated skin makes me shiver, even as desire burns through my veins.

“Y-you look like a snowman,” I manage between laughs, reaching up to brush white powder from Sawyer's beard. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins down at me, and my heart does a little flip at the sight. Who knew the grumpy mountain man had such a beautiful smile?

“Says the woman wearing half the storm in her hair.” His large hands come up to gently shake the snow from my dark strands, and I shiver deliciously. The tenderness in his touch makes my breath catch. Outside, the storm rages on. But in here,wrapped in his arms, I've never felt safer or more alive. “You're freezing.”

“Maybe someone shouldn't have dragged me out into a blizzard,” I tease, even as I lean into his touch. His body radiates heat, and I press closer, craving more of his warmth.

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