Page 36 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“It’s a fricking mountain,” he said under his breath. Below our feet, the hill sloped down, down, down to a long, flat pasture.

“It’s perfect,” I said. I chuckled at his obvious discomfort as I pulled the sled to the brim and scuttled onto it, digging my boots into the snow, breaking into the crunchy top layer that I knew would be perfect for speed.

Caleb, always the daredevil, took a running head start and belly flopped onto his sled. With a large whoop, he slid easily down the slope and then coasted far out into the open field. A smooth, graceful run.

“Survival rate one hundred percent,” I noted. Brax looked hesitant, his lips drawn into a thin line as he rummaged in his coat pockets for his gloves.

I scooched to the front of our sled. “Come on.” I patted the back with my mitten. “Unless you’re chicken.”

“Not chicken,” he mumbled as he dropped into place behind me.

Of all the emergencies we’d handled, all the sleepless nights that were so busy we’d barely had time to pee, I’d never seen him apprehensive of anything, except maybe of the bad fried food in the cafeteria at midnight.

And then suddenly, it hit me—we were sitting together. More than that—he was essentially wrapped around me, his long legs stretched out alongside mine.

Despite the fact that he wore old, faded jeans and I wore insulated snow pants, I swore I could feel his body heat searing through the layers.

Forget him. I was the one who needed reassurance.

It brought me straight back to last summer. His familiar nearness. His big, solid arms grazing my arms. His body encompassing mine.

I thought I’d banished those memories, but they came slamming back with a vengeance. Not unlike the chicken pox virus, which lives on in your nerves long after you’re through being sick, only to create havoc years later.

He was too stiff and silent. Steeling himself, I thought. “Are you by any chance…afraid of heights?”

“Of course not,” he said, sounding offended. He scooched up even closer, resting his hands at my sides. This put his chest inches from my back. He seemed to be taking great pains not to allow any part of his body to touch me. Like that was going to help my nerves. Underneath my jacket, I was in a full-body sweat.

I looked back. His face was so close that I could see the late-day stubble on his cheeks. He was so handsome. A wave of longing passed through me so intense, I sucked in a breath.

Liam pushed Dina off, the toboggan scraping over the clean snowpack. Calm, practical, wise Dina screamed the whole way down.

“Holy shit,” Brax said again.

“You might be too inebriated,” I said.

“I’m not inebriated enough,” he corrected.

“After this, you’re going to wish you were.” I was thinking of another comeback when Liam pushed us off.

“Okay, kids, see you at the bottom!” I had just enough time to gather the rope and what I could of my senses as the sled suddenly plummeted down the giant hill.

Brax let out a curse as he grabbed my waist, more from survival instinct than anything else. I leaned against him because, well, I had to, didn’t I? It was either that or risk being tossed off into the cold unknown, also known as a giant hilly meadow that was known for its rainbow bursts of wildflowers in the spring, but was now a sleek, silver-coated racetrack with multiple dips.

I couldn’t think. But I could feel his lean torso against my back, solid and comforting, his arms now encased tightly around me. I leaned back even more to brace myself as we flew down, down the hill, the snow flying up in our faces, the cold air nipping at our cheeks and making tears stream from our eyes as we barreled down.

Then, as we careened and dipped along the curves and flew down the incline, Brax laughed.

Not a tentative, nervous laugh, but a full, real one. Carefree and fun.

I’d been down this hill dozens—if not hundreds—of times, and I always felt the rush of absolute freedom, the fresh sting of the winter air, and the intense, quiet beauty of a moonlit hillside in the dead of winter.

But this time, I experienced it with fresh eyes. And ears, as we both yelled and screamed as we navigated the roller coaster of dips, the snow spraying up onto our faces.

The terror turned quickly to relief as we glided smoothly into the pasture, the wild ride coming to a much calmer end. “That was amazing,” he said, untangling his legs and lifting himself up. Holding out a hand for me, he grinned. “Let’s do it again.”

So we did. Again, and then again. In fact, we outlasted the others, who brushed off their backsides a final time and went inside to get warm.

“One more time,” he said. He looked boyish. Sweetly excited. And purely happy in a way I’d never seen him before.

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