Page 25 of Out of the Cold

“I should probably—” he started.

“I wanted to ask you,” she said quickly, pulling a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and unfolding it. “I found this in my post office box. Have you gone to these types of things?”

It was a flier about events in town.

“No, but I imagine they’re worth doing.”

“I’m excited about the raptor series. Did you know there are golden eaglesandbald eagles around here?”

“I’ve seen them before, but not often.”

“There’s also a talk on the effect western expansion and mining had on the local Native American communities.”

“When is that happening?” he asked, before he could think better of it.

“Let’s see. Seven o’clock next Thursday. Do you want to go?”

A simple question, but not a simple answer. He ought to say no. He was terrible company, and he managed to upset her every time they were together. But the hopeful look in her eyes sealed the deal. She was trying so hard, and apparently, he wasn’t completely dead inside.

“Sure, why not?”

There was that smile again, sweet enough to cloud any man’s judgement. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be planning ways to see it again. But this was as harmless as they came. They’d sit in uncomfortable chairs in the historical society building for an hour, learn a little history, and that would be that. He should probably figure out a reason to drive separately.

Outside the plate glass windows, snow began to fall—lightly at first, then heavier—the kind of big fluffy flakes that fell when it was fairly warm out, only to melt as soon as they hit the ground. Lucy was too intent on her hot chocolate to notice at first, but when she finally glanced out the window, her eyes grew huge, and she seemed to stop breathing.

She was up and out of her chair without a word, and he watched in confusion as she raced out the door and stood on the sidewalk. Tipping her head back, she spread her arms wide, her face to the sky as snowflakes fell softly on her cheeks and caught in her eyelashes, experiencing the snow with every part of herself.

His breath caught in his chest at the sight, and a pulse of something moved through him—whether desire or envy, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to be entranced. Didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d lost himself like that.

That was one of the amazing things about being with Ricky. He never held anything back, and he rushed out to try every new thing he could.

But Ricky wouldn’t have any more firsts.

Lucy’s eyes were glowing when she returned a few minutes later. “It’s beautiful out there.”

“Enjoy it now,” he said, pushing the cloying hot chocolate away. “You’ll be sick of it soon enough. Wait until you have to slog through it to take the dog out.”

The light went out of her eyes. “Possibly. But right now, I think it’s lovely. Is there some reason you had to ruin that for me?”

“I just think you should know what you’re dealing with.”

“You’re right that I’m not prepared for winter here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn how to be. It’s not like I have to shoot my own food, for heaven’s sake.”

“No, but there are other things that can cause problems. Like the fact that your car is only two-wheel drive, and what’s worse, the tires are nearly bald. As soon as it snows even a little, you’ll be stranded.”

“I take your point, okay? I have a lot to learn. But you could have said, ‘Hey Lucy, did you know you need new tires?’ I would actually appreciate knowing that.”

This was why he shouldn’t have sat down. He wasn’t capable of having a pleasant conversation with her. With anyone, really.

“You know,” she went on, “it would be easier if you were a jerk all the time. Some days—no, some minutes—you’re actually pleasant company, but then it turns on a dime. That’s what gets me into trouble. I let my guard down, and before I know it, you’re finding fault with me again.”

“Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.” He grabbed his mug and stood up. “Congratulations again on the reading. That’s going to be great.”

She didn’t say anything, only watched him with those sad eyes of hers. She didn’t even look angry anymore, only confused and let down.

Again.

He climbed into his cold truck and headed home, or what counted as home for now. Before he was a mile from town, the cruelty of what he’d said left him burning with mortification. In what world did it make sense to ruin a person’s joy just because he couldn’t experience it?

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