Page 11 of Mountain Man's Naughty Elf
"I've got it," she assured me, stretching to drape the strands along the mantel.
"Just hurry up," I muttered, suddenly conscious of our proximity. From this position, her hair was inches from my face, carrying the scent of vanilla and cinnamon from the pancakes—a civilian intrusion into my ordered space.
"Almost done," she said, reaching for the far corner. The chair wobbled again, and instinctively, my hand went to her hip to stabilize her.
She froze at the contact. So did I. My palm registered every detail—the curve of her waist, the warmth radiating through my flannel shirt she wore, even the slight hitch in her breathing. Our eyes met. The flickering glow emanating from the tiny bulbs reflected in her emerald, green irises, turning them into something magical and dangerous. The cabin seemed to shrink around us.
Then she cleared her throat. "I, uh, think I'm good now."
I removed my hand immediately, stepping back. "Right."
She finished hanging the lights in silence, then climbed down from the chair without meeting my eyes. The suddencharge between us lingered in the air like the static before a thunderstorm.
"They look nice," she finally said, gesturing to the shimmering beacons now twinkling along the mantel.
"Hmm." I backed away, suddenly needing to escape the unfamiliar tension. "I'm going to check the perimeter." I grabbed my coat and yanked on my boots, escaping to the howling whiteness outside for a few minutes of clarity.
The blast of winter air cleared my head, but did nothing to erase the memory of her warmth against my palm. When I returned, stamping snow from my boots and shaking ice from my beard, I discovered Pepper had used my tactical retreat to advance her Christmas campaign. She'd added a few more "minimal" garnishes—pine cones with gold accents arranged on the coffee table, a red runner along the bookshelf, and the promised ornaments hanging from the pine bough.
I chose to say nothing, instead kneeling to build up the fire. The temperature was dropping, and we'd need the extra heat.
"I put some of the pans away," she said, breaking the silence. "Hope I got them in the right places."
"Thanks." I stacked another log on the fire, then froze at a sound from outside. Not the wind. An engine. Multiple engines.
Pepper heard it too, her eyes widening. "Is that—"
"Vehicles." I rushed to the window, peering through the curtain. Through the swirling snow, I could make out two SUVs crawling up my driveway—no small feat in this weather. "Black SUVs. Town insignias."
"Nolan," she whispered, face paling. "How did he find me?"
"He's checking everywhere, probably." I pulled back from the window, mind racing through tactical options. "We need to hide you."
"Where? It's not like you have a secret passage."
She had a point. The cabin's open floor plan left few hiding spots. The bedroom loft was visible from the main area, the bathroom had no lock, and the storage closet was too obvious.
"The bells," I said suddenly. "Take off anything that jingles."
She looked down at herself. "I'm in your clothes. No bells."
"Your costume, by the fire. He might recognize it."
She lunged for the elf outfit, gathering it up. "Where do I put it?"
The rumble of the approaching vehicles outside spurred my decision. "Upstairs, under the bed. Then stay there. Don't make a sound."
She nodded, clutching the costume to her chest, then paused. "The hat—the evidence—"
"I'll handle it." I took the pointed hat from her, quickly removing the USB drive and slipping it into my pocket. "Go. Now."
As she dashed up the stairs, I tossed the hat into the fire, watching as the fabric caught immediately. By the time the knock came at the door, nothing remained but ash.
I schooled my features into the unfriendly scowl I reserved for unwanted visitors and yanked open the door.
Mayor Nolan Wickett stood on my porch, flanked by two burly men in security windbreakers. He wore an expensive-looking parka with a fur-trimmed hood, his campaign smile firmly in place despite the biting cold.
"Mr. Forrester," he said, with the forced joviality of a politician. "Sorry to bother you in this weather."
