Page 8 of Snowed in with a Grinch

“My Christmas Eve pajamas!” She beams, apparently recovered from her guilt. “I always wear festive PJs on Christmas Eve. It's tradition. And since I couldn't be with my family for their matching pajama photo, I thought I'd at least keep part of the tradition alive.” Her smile dims slightly. “I know it's silly...”

“It's not silly.” The words escape before I can stop them. Because somehow, standing here in my transformed living room with this Christmas-obsessed woman in her ridiculous light-up sweater, nothing feels silly anymore. It feels... right. Stupidly right.

“Here.” She grabs my hand, and electricity shoots through me at her touch. Her fingers are warm and soft against my calloused palm. “You can wear one too.” She places a folded sweater in my hand, looking up at me with such hopeful excitement that something in my chest constricts.

I look down at the monstrosity she's just handed me. It's a sweater, if you can call it that, in an eye-searing shade of green that would make the Grinch himself proud. There's a giant gingerbread man on the front, complete with gumdrop buttons that also light up. The whole thing probably violates several laws of good taste, not to mention electrical safety codes.

“Absolutely not.” I thrust the sweater back at her, but she just presses it into my chest, her hands lingering there longer than necessary. The warmth of her touch seeps through my shirt, making it hard to maintain my scowl.

“Oh, come on, it'll be fun! Look, it even plays music.” She presses a button and tinny notes of 'Jingle Bells' ring out. Her face is alight with such pure joy that I find myself wavering.

“That's horrible.” But even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice.

“Horribly wonderful.” She smiles, smoothing her hands over the sweater she's still pressing against my chest. “I initially bought it for my dad as a spare—well, not really a spare. These things drive my mom nuts, so I bought extra as a joke to tease her. So no one will mind me gifting it to you instead. You can wear it while you help me hang the rest of the lights. That way, I can promise there'll be no more artistic balancing.”

The responsible part of me knows I should say no. Should send her to bed and go back to my plants. Instead, I pull the hideous sweater over my head, my resolve crumbling under her delighted gaze. The sweater's too tight across my shoulders, and the gingerbread man stretches alarmingly across my chest, but her beaming smile makes it worth every uncomfortable second.

“Happy now?”

She reaches up to adjust the collar, her fingers brushing against my neck. “It's a Christmas miracle.”

I roll my eyes. “Just tell me where you want these.” I turn to string the lights as she enthusiastically directs me.

“A little higher... no, to the left... perfect!” Her over-the-top joy seems to be infectious, and I have to fight to keep my scowl in place. “You know, for someone who doesn't do Christmas, you're pretty good at this.”

“I'm tall. That's all.”

She laughs, and all I can think about is making her giggle as I carry her off to my room. “Well, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grinchy, we’re all done now. What do you think?” She steps back, gesturing at the room with a flourish.

I take in the transformation. The lights cast a warm glow that softens every harsh edge, making my usually stark cabin feel... homey. She's even managed to find a tiny Christmas treethat she’s balanced on top of my books, covered it in tinsel, and topped it with what looks like an origami star.

“It's...”

“If you say awful, I'm going back out in the snow.”

“Don't even joke about that.” The words come out sharper than intended, and she blinks in surprise. Softer, I add, “It's nice. Different, but nice.”

Her whole face lights up, brighter than any of the twinkling decorations. “Really? Because I was worried you'd hate it. I mean, I know I probably overstepped, but everything just looked so... lonely. And no one should be lonely on Christmas Eve, not even grumpy mountain men who pretend they don't like it when someone brings a little joy into their life.”

She's standing so close now, looking up at me with those warm brown eyes, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to lean down and taste her smile. The Christmas lights reflect against her face, highlighting the flush in her cheeks and the slight part of her lips. Her ridiculous reindeer sweater nose blinks in time with my pounding heart, and somehow even that feels perfect in this moment.

My hand moves of its own accord, cupping her face as my thumb traces her bottom lip. Her breath catches, and I feel it ghost across my skin, warm and sweet like the cocoa she mentioned earlier. The tinsel and lights she's strung everywhere seem to reflect in her eyes, creating a universe of sparkles that draws me in.

“Noelle,” I whisper, fighting the urge to close the distance. Every cell in my body screams to pull her closer, to finally discover if she tastes as sweet as she looks. The scent of pine and cinnamon surrounds us, and for the first time in years, my cabin feels like more than just a place to exist—it feels like Christmas.

“Yes, Sawyer.” Her voice is breathy, wanting, and her hands come to rest on my chest, fingers curling into the ridiculoussweater she convinced me to wear. The touch burns through the fabric, and I lean down, one hand sliding to her waist while the other remains gentle on her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed, dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, and just as I pull her flush against me, the temperature alarm in my greenhouse goes off.

“Fuck!”

NOELLE

Sawyer jerks away from me so fast I stumble. His warmth disappears as he sprints toward his workshop, leaving me breathless and confused under the glow of Christmas lights.

“What's wrong?” I call after him, but he's already disappeared through the mysterious door. The alarm continues its shrill warning, and even through the closed door, I can hear him cursing.

I move closer, and for a moment, I hesitate, my hand hovering over the door handle. He's made it clear his workspace is off-limits. But something in his panicked reaction tells me this isn't just a minor inconvenience. He obviously needs help.

Following my instincts (and maybe my curiosity), I push through the door. The transition is immediate and overwhelming. Like stepping from winter into summer. Warm, humid air wraps around me, and the scent of earth and green things fills my lungs.

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