Page 81 of Off the Beaten Path

I thought it’d be grand to sit under the stars with a space heater on the back porch at the cabin since it’s empty this week. Most of the month, actually, since we’re officially back in the post-Christmas lull in Fontana Ridge. I just underestimated how cold it was going to be. Outside. In the mountains. In January.

“In the books and movies, when the girl says she’s cold, the guy will tell her not to worry because he’ll keep her warm.”

Holden nuzzles beneath my hair, the cold tip of his nose making me shiver. “I don’t talk like that,” he says into my ear.

Normally, this would make me feel warm all over, but I’m cold to the bone. And when a snowflake lands on the tip of my nose, my body racks with another shiver.

“Okay, that’s enough of this nonsense,” Holden says, hefting me up into his arms as he stands. My startled squeal echoes in the mountain night air.

Holden bends, yanking the space heater cord from the outdoor outlet and picking it up. Then he carries it and me inside, depositing the space heater by the door and me on the kitchen counter.

I shiver again, my skin pricking against the almost too-warm heat inside the cabin. Holden’s eyes catch the movement, and he moves in closer, stepping between my thighs until we’re touching everywhere. Slowly, his fingers wrap around the zipper of my coat, pulling it down. The sound of the zip and my breathing are the only noises. Once it’s completely unzipped, his hands dive inside, coming around my waist, slipping under the hem of my sweater.

I gasp at the feeling of his chilled palms against my skin, and his lips twitch in that barely there smile I love so much. “Skin on skin is the best way to warm up.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, that’s the only reason.”

He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I need my hands warm so I can show you something.”

I lift my eyebrows suggestively, and he lets out an aggrieved sigh that brings a smile to my face.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, tugging me closer.

I slide my hands up his chest, fingers bumping over the buttons on his jacket. It’s really unfair that he got to take mine off, but his is on. So I stop on one of the buttons, pushing it through the hole. Holden watches the movement before looking back at me, one brow raised.

“My hands are cold too,” I say, but really, I just want to feel his skin beneath my palms. He knows it too.

The buttons come undone one by one, the ring on my left hand glinting under the warm cabin lights. It still surprises me sometimes when I see it. It’s only been there for a few weeks, after all. I can remember the moment he proposed with vivid clarity, lit up under the sparkling colorful lights of the Christmas tree. There was a present for me from June beneath the tree, poorly wrapped in bright yellow paper that made my chest hurt just to look at. I could imagine her wrapping it herself, using too much tape, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. I wasn’t at all shocked to find a friendship bracelet inside the box, but my heart stopped when I read the beads.WILL YOU MARRY MY DADDY?When I turned around, Holden was on one knee, tears shimmering in his eyes. I’d never seen him look so sure of anything, like he knew without a doubt that this was exactly what he wanted. It made it easy to say yes, makes my throat go thick with the memory every time the ring catches the light.

When the buttons are finally undone, I slip my hands inside, lifting the hem of his shirt just like he did with mine. He’s so warm, and I sigh at the feel of him. His eyes go hazy, and he looks like every daydream I’ve had over the last year. All the ones I never thought could have come true.

His lips find mine once more, slow and steady, unlike those first few kisses we shared. There are still times when we’re frantic, grasping for each other like we can’t move fast enough, but the majority of our kisses are just like this, like we have all the time in the world.

I like knowing I have all the time with him.

Holden pulls back, his forehead resting against mine. “I have something I want to show you.” When I lift my eyebrows again, he sighs and pulls back, taking his warmth with him.

I watch as he moves across the small kitchen, opening the drawer beside the sink where all the odds and ends go. Confusion ripples through me when he pulls out a large rolled-up piece of paper.

He brings it back to where I’m still seated on the counter, unrolling it so it lies flat beside me. It’s a blueprint, from what I can tell. Although I’m not sure of what.

“What is it?”

Holden’s eyes fix on mine, more green today than brown, like the pine trees outside. They refract in the kitchen lights, all the shades of nature in one. “It’s a blueprint. For a cabin.”

I smooth my fingers over the paper, examining the straight lines on the page. “For a project you have coming up?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s for here.”

My gaze snaps to his, confused. “What do you mean forhere?”

Holden searches my face, and for the first time, I see a hint of hesitation, maybe nerves, reflected in his expression. “You can say no. I just had an idea.”

I watch him for a long moment. “Okay.”

“I know this cabin is important to you, but I know it’s also not what you want it to be.”

He’s right. The cabin is too small for most of the families coming to Fontana Ridge, and despite the upgrades we made, it’s still old, with a lot of quirks. Like the shower in the bathroom that goes ice cold when the kitchen sink is on. And the wood floors that creak with every step. And the spindle that a guest broke on the back porch that we’ve yet to fix. It’s something on our long to-do list for the off-season.

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