Page 17 of Yule Know It When You See It
“Onein the morning, thank you very much.” I cross my arms and rub my biceps, hopping from one booted foot to the other to keep warm while standing in one place on cold concrete.
Axel chuckles and shakes his head, eyes falling on me bouncing around like a roasting chestnut. “Youarecold.”
“Seriously? It’s got to be twenty degrees, and we’re standing motionless on a cold floor with abreeze.” I reference his unzipped jacket. “And you’re crazy. How are you not shivering?”
Axel’s eyes do this sultry hooded thing, and he jabs his thumb at himself. “Norwegian.”
Damn. He reallyisa Viking.
An inconvenientwhooshswirls in my stomach.
“And that explains the accent. I guessed Scandinavian but didn’t want to insult and pretend I knew which country.”
An actual warm half-smile graces Axel’s lips. “That’s refreshing.”
“What is?”
“Most peopledobother to guess because they want to be right. I don’t get insulted easily, if ever, but I’m not everybody. It’s a matter of respect, you know?” Axel’s gaze shifts to the trains on other rails whizzing past as he speaks.
Did we just—have a moment?
Heat rises behind my eyelids and I continue to do my chilly cha-cha dance.
“For crying out loud, Theo. Come on. We can wait in the covered bench area. It’ll at least get you out of the wind.” Axel motions with his head for me to follow him.
Considering I can’t feel my nose, I give in and retreat to the benches, feverishly rubbing my arms once seated. He leans against the partition, crossing his legs at the ankle and smirking at me.
I squint at him with one eye. “I’m surprised you didn’t offer me your jacket just to screw with my head.”
“Would you have taken it?”
Busted.
“No. I would not have. But it’s the principle of the thing, Mr. Nord.” Leaning forward, I hug my arms under my thighs.
Axel rakes a single finger through his beard, combing it. “What good would it have done, anyway? All it would do is makemecold and leave me standing here in a t-shirt.”
“Whatever happened to—” I point at myself and pompously lift my nose. “Norwegian.”
“Norwegian. Not inhuman.” He tugs my peacoat. “Maybeyoushould invest in a thicker jacket.”
I roam my gloved hands over the light gray peacoat with pink plaid lining I’ve owned for three years. “Perhaps. But this one iscute.”
“Of course. Beauty before function, right?” He chuckles, the gray clouds hovering overhead making the blue in his gaze radiate like a sparkling snowflake.
I tip my head. “This is the way.”
Axel’s head swivels to one side with a quirked brow. “Did you—” A peculiar delight sparks in his gaze. “Was that aStar Warsquote?”
No. There’d be no admitting we had something in common. This friendly conversation would lead to more conversation. And this—whatever it was—must remain civil at best. Besides, his smug grin while eatingmysandwich still taunts my memory like a catchy commercial jingle.
The CTA Holiday Train putters by in the distance, and I spring to my feet, pointing. “Look, there’s the holiday train.”
Every year, Chicago decorates a train, dubbing it Santa’s Express, and covers the entire thing in lights and holiday designs both outside and in. In between cars, Santa and his reindeer greet people waiting on platforms as they travel the stops.
“You ever been on it?” Axel asks, following the train with his gaze as it passes.
“Nope. You?”
