Page 57 of A Spell for Midwinter's Heart
He led her to an old gray Subaru. She stopped, staring at it, as an impression of overwhelming familiarity passed through her. This had been his car in high school, she was sure of it.
“What happened to the sports car?” she asked.
“A necessity to get us home, but not my kind of ride.”
She realized then how much her understanding of him had shifted over the last few days. The sports car fit the image she had of him at the airport, but it was entirely dissonant now.
They were quiet as they drove back through the town. Thoughts kept trying to form in her mind, but when they did, she pushed them away. She didn’t want to cage this in words yet. The Midwinter house peeked its way through the dark, snowy wood far too soon.
“Well—” she finally began, right at the same moment in which he said, “Breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” she replied, confused.
“We should eat it.”
“It’s generally recommended.”
“Together. We should eat it together tomorrow.”
The thought of seeing him again so soon, feeling this way again, sent her pulse tap dancing. “I agree. How about brunch, though? We’re on vacation. I am, at least.”
“It’s the weekend, and Monday is Christmas, so, yes, I finally have a few days off.” His expression grew serious for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier—how we should put our heads together.”
“Wedidput our heads together. It was nice.”
Catching her meaning, he smiled. “Just nice?”
“More than nice. It was…” She leaned across the car and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was slower and gentler than before, as they savored every caress. “Well, it was like that.”
“Much more than nice,” he agreed. “But back to the other topic. I think we should do that. After breakfast.”
“But not during…”
“Not during. Because…” He traced a finger up the side of her face, and the wide-open way he looked at her, wanting, made her feel like something rare and wonderful. “I want to take you on a date first.”
“A breakfast date,” she confirmed, with a smile so large she thought it might break the boundaries of her face.
“Yes, a breakfast date. After which we can talk about other things, but first, a date.”
Energy bubbled through her as she looked away, suddenly self-conscious that he might notice the eagerness on her face and call the whole thing off. “It’s a date, then. Wow, did we ever just say the word ‘date’ a lot, and there I went and did again.”
He followed her to the front door, and when she turned to say good-bye, he stepped in close and his hands came to rest around her hips, and he simply stared, his expression marveling, as if he couldn’t believe she was standing there before him.
“What?” she asked, more of the self-conscious energy escaping in a nervous laugh.
“I just…can’t believe you’re here. That this is happening.”
She didn’t know how to react to the way he was looking at her, other than to joke defensively. “I know, a holiday miracle, right? A Midwinter and a McCreery.”
“That’s…” He looked down, laughing. “Not quite what I meant.” And then he was quiet and leaned in, kissing her again, each wanting embrace drawing her in and closer, pulling her in, like the push and pull of energy in a ritual.
Mine to you, yours to me.
“Good night,” he said with a nod when he finally pulled away, leaving her a mess of gooey feelings.
When he was gone, she lingered and looked up. Mistletoe hung over the door, coated in a clinging accumulation of fine ice crystals. She took the sprig of holly she’d pulled from his hair at the airport out of her jacket pocket, and before she went to bed, she tucked it under her pillow.
Rowan crashed like a log, sleeping more deeply than she had in months, and when she woke up the next morning, all traces of the stress that had kept her up the night before had vanished.
