Page 58 of Mistletoe

“I will handle that.” He plucked the hat off her head and frowned. “This is wet. You are wet.”

“It is snowing sideways.”

“Your lips are blue and your hands are freezing.” He rubbed her hand between his own.

Emma closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands. They felt toasty warm. “How are you so warm? You’re barely wearing anything.”

“I run hotter than you. This is soaking wet.” He plucked at the sleeves of her outermost layer.

“Snow. Sideways. It gets everywhere.” Down the collar of her shirt. In her boots. In her mittens. She was cold and wet.

“Remove your wet clothes,” he ordered.

“Sir, I do not believe we are acquainted like that,” she said in a mock scandalized tone, fluttering her lashes at him.

“We are acquainted like that,” he replied. The heat in his voice was enough to raise her temperature, driving out the cold from her bones.

Emma blushed. She meant it to shift his mood from worry to something lighter.

The mood shifted, but it wasn’t lighter.

“We are acquainted like that,” she agreed. And she wanted to be better acquainted. “We’ll be here a while. Possibly all night.”

He nodded. “You cannot go back out in this storm.”

“We’re stuck together.”

“Let’s warm you up,” Hal said.

“Honestly, I’m feeling pretty warm right now.” She laid a hand on his chest.

Hal’s large hand covered her own. She could just make out his grin in the dim lantern light.

Emma stretched up, grabbed his braid, and tugged, encouraging him to lean down. She kissed him softly. His lips were warm and inviting. She was absolutely positive that hers were like ice.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. “Let’s get settled and then I can take off these wet things.”

“I approve of this plan.”

She laughed, playfully swatting his arm.

The barn was basic in construction, with wood slats with no insulation and tar shingles on the roof. When the wind blew hard, the temperature inside plummeted. The animals had their winter coats and plenty of hay to bed down in. Emma planned to do the same.

She made a nest of hay in an empty stall and covered it in saddle blankets. Hal then strung rope over the stall to hang more blankets, creating a tent.

“It’ll keep the heat in,” he said.

Emma crawled in, the hay crunching under her knees. One side of the tent remained open, where they left the lantern. Once settled, she unlaced her boots, her numb fingers fumbling with the laces, eventually pulling them off along with her socks. Wet socks were the single worst sensation in the universe, in her experience.

It was already warmer.

“How did you know to do that?” she asked.

“We could not always afford heat when I was a child. Or an adult, to be honest.”

“You remember that?”

He focused on unlacing his own foot coverings. The leather and shearling lining was soaked. “It is odd. Some part of me remembers how to string the blankets to make an enclosure. I know it happened, but I cannot recall a specific memory.”

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