Page 85 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
“Are you calling me a twat?” I huffed, glancing back as he locked the truck.
“No,” he replied slowly.
He was totally calling me a twat.
I wish I could say it was an unfair observation.
It wasn’t.
I was a complete and utter twat.
Thomas fell into step with me, although it was a little less stepping and bit more… clodhopping, to be honest. I couldn’tspeak for Thomas, but I was having to lift my legs up like I was a marching soldier before I could take my steps.
“You look ridiculous.” He glanced over at me with his lips twitching. “Do you want to walk behind me and step in my footsteps?”
“What? Like I’m some kind of bear cub? No, thank you.” I sniffed, reaching up to wipe my nose. “I can manage.”
“All right.”
It might have been bold of me, given the weather, but I kept trudging along after him until I was a bit too far back to be comfortable. His legs were much longer than mine given he had a solid few inches in height on me, and his Wellington boots were much more suited to such weather than my regular old leather ones were. Not to mention that the cold, wet snow was starting to seep through the seams to the point I was frozen from the tips of my toes to about a third of the way up my legs.
For now.
The way it was still coming down said it wasn’t likely I was going to catch a break anytime soon.
“Are you coming or are you trying to get yourself snowed in in the middle of the road?” he called over his shoulder.
Another gust of wind caught us as it blew through the country lane, and approximately seven thousand snowflakes pummelled me in the face.
“Ooh, you are so not funny!” I shouted, desperately wiping at my cheeks. I tugged my scarf up as far as I could over my nose while still being able to breathe and adjusted my coat so I could pull my hood up over my hat.
“Come here.” Thomas walked back to me and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his side. “We’re nearly there. Just a couple more minutes, okay?”
“You don’t need to coddle me.”
“Sylvie, you’re cold, I’m cold, and it’s fucking cold in general. We can conserve a little warmth by walking together, unless you’d like me to leave you in the hedge to freeze to death.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I squeaked out.
“Then come on,” he said in a softer voice, tugging me along with him. “Besides, I don’t mind doing this now that I know you aren’t going to hit me with something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now I know you don’t hate me anymore.”
“Can I change my answer? I might feel differently right now.”
“The alternative is that I didn’t insist on following you home and you’d be stuck out here in this snowstorm, in the dark, without a car or a phone signal, completely alone.”
Ah.
Yes.
Well.
I suppose he had a point there.
I pressed my lips together. “You’re right. Never mind. I suppose we can be friends.”
