Page 96 of Mad About Yule

Griffin drives the canyon roads like he can see in the dark and has every intersection memorized. I would have had the truck at a crawl, squinting at half-hidden signs in a desperate attempt not to get lost or plow us into a snowbank.

“How do you still remember where to go up here?”

“You underestimate how often I came out here.”

He finds the gravel road he’s looking for, barely more than a strip of white in the trees, but in another minute, he’s parked in a turnout at a dead-end. He pulls off the elf hat and tugs a thick-knit beanie down low over his ears until he’s nothing but a pair of hazel eyes and a chiseled jaw. Oh, the things I want to do to that jaw.

He opens the glovebox and hands a big flashlight to me, and we each grab a stack of blankets from the back. He pulls one of the firewood bundles from the truck bed, but he carries it all like it’s nothing. We pick our way along the path by flashlight beam, the only sound the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere overhead.

“This is an excellent spot for an axe murdering,” I whisper.

He pauses on the narrow path. “Do you want to go back to town? We can do something else.”

I adore his earnestness. No guilting me, no hesitation, just if I want to leave, we can.

But to be clear, I don’t want to leave. I lean into him, trying not to shine the flashlight in his face. “No, I want to stay. It’s just so quiet out here. I can’t see anything.”

“You don’t camp much, do you?”

“I’ve gone camping exactly zero times.”

He nods forward and we continue on. “You live in a town surrounded by forest, and you’ve never gone camping? Not even as a kid?”

Everything the flashlight beam falls on casts strange shadows, like something could be waiting just beyond the light. It’s weird and spooky out here, but no way will I admit that I’m on the verge of freaking out. I’ve waited over a decade to be at one of Griffin’s famous bonfires. I’m not going to ruin it by telling him how big of a chicken I am.

“I don’t think my mother knows how to rough it.”

“What about you?”

“Let’s find out.”

We reach the stone fire pit he’d been heading for and start arranging blankets next to it. His bundle included a tarp, which he lays out first to protect us from the light dusting of snow, then the blankets in a cozy heap. Next, he sits me down in the middle like a pampered princess, pulling one blanket over my shoulders and another over my legs. Once he’s satisfied I’m warm enough, he turns his attention to the firewood.

I shine my flashlight on the stone ring to give him some light to work with, but even this he seems to know how to do in the dark. After much newspaper twisting and precision log arranging, he pulls a long lighter out of a coat pocket.

“Here goes nothing.” He ignites it and touches the flame to several spots until the fire crackles to life.

I open up my blanket throne so he can crawl in and share the heat. He burrows in behind me, snuggling me close in his arms and legs, then secures the blankets again. This isn’t remotely what I imagined when he talked about roughing it, but I absolutely love it. I lean against his chest, not the least bit sorry we’re here with snow on the ground instead of on a hot summer night. With him around, I’ll never feel the cold.

The spooky stuff, I’m less certain about.

Griffin rests his chin on my shoulder. “You good?”

“Mm hmm. Is this what you used to do when you had bonfires out here in high school?”

He wraps his arms tighter around me. “I wish. Those were mostly guys from the baseball team telling stupid stories and throwing everything we could find onto the fire.”

“It wasn’t all guys. Therewereco-ed parties.” I’d heard enough secondhand to know that much. Nothing very scandalous, but I’m not about to buy his “just me and the boys”version of events.

He kisses me right below my ear. “Yes,” he says against my skin. “But not like this.”

“Good.”

We watch the fire dance higher into the night sky. Stars peek through the clouds at us in our own personal light show. I want to soak it all up. I lay my head back against Griffin’s shoulder to get a better view.

“I need to paint this.”

“I want to see it when it’s done. Then you need to hang it in your store.”

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