Page 17 of The Santa of the Mountain

He moves away from the stove, sitting back on his heels as he glances over at me. He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh.

“Kate,” he rasps, “Are you in there?”

I wave my arms and then slide toward him, the wool socks like ice skates on the wood floor.

“I think so. But don’t knock it. This is one big cocoon of warmth.”

And it smells like Cole—a warm and rugged spicy scent that I can’t get enough of. Honestly, it’s reminiscent of Christmas.

“So you’re warming up?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, sliding onto the couch so I can see him better. I can’t get over the white beard.The eyebrows.I can’t believeI didn’t notice them earlier. Dear lord, the man has white eyebrows and now I’m the one trying not to burst into laughter.

“What?” he asks, shoving another log into the stove.

“I just noticed your eyebrows.”

His cheeks redden as he sighs. “My sister’s doing. Said it wouldn’t look right if we only dyed the beard. Planned on shaving ‘em off tonight.”

“Oh, god don’t do that. Your eyebrows and beard? You realize that you could dye them again, right?”

Cole turns to me. “Kate,” he rasps, pushing two meaty fists into the floor as he pushes himself to his feet. “It never crossed my mind,” he says, crossing the room toward me.

My stomach twists and tightens as something jolts inside me. Cole leans down, hooks his arms beneath mine, and scoops me off the couch effortlessly as he hugs me.

“I could kiss you right now,” he says as my head turns staticky. My pulse pounding in my head, chest, and between my thighs.

What’s stopping you?is what I want to say.

What I say instead is nothing more than a garbled mess of syllables that form no words found in any dictionary in any language on Earth or in the universe at large. Thankfully it rolls off of him as he sets me down, my mind still reeling as I stare at him.

And he stares at me. My lips. And then back at my eyes. For a moment, I think I might get my wish after all, but when the kettle screams a few moments later, I realize it’s too good to be true.

“Tea?” he asks, his voice deep and rumbly.

I swallow. “Sure.”

Cole’s gaze lingers on mine a moment longer. The urge to touch his beard rises, but before I have a chance to act, he heads for the kitchen.

“Stew’s ready as well. Still hungry?”

“Starving.”

In more ways than one. I turn, watching Cole as he moves through the kitchen. He pours steaming water into two mugs, dropping a bag in each one. “Only have peppermint,” he says, turning back to me. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“My go-to this time of year.”

He moves toward me and I feel each step he takes. It should be scary being around a man like him. So big and powerful. Out in a remote cabin in the woods without a hope of leaving. But I’m not.Heisn’t. The only thing scary about this is how easy it is to be around him.

I feel safe and protected. Like he’s someone I could count on in a pinch. And Iwasin a pinch. It’s still difficult to wrap my head around the slim chance I had at finding shelter. Maybe Christmas miracles do exist.

“Fresh out of candy canes though.”

“That’s okay. I already ate the one on my sweater.”

Cole’s eyes flare. “I need to hear the story about this sweater. Lose a bet? Your mind?”

I laugh. “Not exactly, but I’ll get back to you on that last one.” I grab the steaming mug from Cole and breathe in the soothing scent of peppermint. “You know you smell a little like candy canes.”

---