Page 31 of Chocolate Cherry Cabin

Hannah released Obi, who shot off into the backyard.

“Thanks for letting me walk with you,” Louis said, filling the silence.

Hannah hesitated. “Is your mom…” She looked down, then asked, “Where are you spending Christmas? Do you exchange gifts? Do you still despise Christmas?” Catching herself, she added, “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“I thought we werefriends.”

“I know, but...” She was smiling. That beautiful one that was a mix of bashful curiosity and happiness. It was an unstoppable smile, and usually reserved for Calvin and friends. Had Louis truly made the cut? The idea made him want to freeze this moment.

“Is my mom still alive?” he asked carefully, starting with her first question. “Unfortunately, she passed away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He reached out, tapped the back of her gloved hand. “My life can be your business, Hannah.”

“Sorry, I just—I don’t want to overstep. It feels like this could be a no-go area.”

He stepped a little closer, peering at her. “It’s not. I’m an open book.”

She didn’t reply, and he said, “Ask me anything. Feel free. But first, to quickly answer your previous questions, I’m spending Christmas with my dad and I still don’t go nuts over the holiday like some people.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t go nuts.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

There was something in her steady, assessing gaze that made him cringe. It was as though she was preparing herself to analyze the truth of his response to a question she hadn’t yet asked.

“Do you really know how to tune a piano?”

Louis tipped his head back and laughed. He’d forgotten just how direct she could be.

He met her eyes, loving the way her mouth was twisted with mischief. “I’ve had the best online video teacher there is,” he admitted.

“I do admire your confidence. I hope my boys grow up to be…”

Louis felt his breath stick in his chest. “Would it be so bad if they turned out like me?”

“I don’t particularly want to fight with them all the time.”

“So? Then don’t fight with me.” He angled closer, his feet bracketing hers. Her breathing slowed as she stared up at him.

His next move felt like it might be a kiss.

He knew it was way too early for that. It would be like dropping a bomb when negotiations had only just begun.

He brushed back a strand of hair that wasn’t tucked under her hat.

“But that’s what we do,” she said, her voice breathy. “We fight.”

“It’s not a rule.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.” He kept his voice low, confiding. His lips had somehow moved closer to hers, and he waited, curious about how she’d react. The warmth from their breath battled the chilly morning air surrounding them. “And we don’t fight. It’s more like we challenge each other.”

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