Page 28 of The Bear's Christmas Wish
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.” She wiggled her toes inside the oversized wool. “Thank you.”
When Michael settled back beside her, he found himself sitting closer than before. Their shoulders almost touched now, and he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo...something citrusy with floral notes that evoked a sense of summer.
“You know,” Sarah said, cradling her mug, “this isn’t at all how I expected to spend my morning.”
“Trapped in a cabin during a blizzard?” Michael chuckled.
“Talking,” she clarified. “Really talking. It’s been a while since I’ve done that with anyone besides my mom or Emmy.”
The admission warmed him more than the fire. “I’m glad to be the one you talk to,” he said. “Even if it took a snowstorm to make it happen.”
She smiled at that, her shoulder finally touching his as she shifted slightly. The contact was electric, even through layers of clothing.
“Tell me about the tree farm,” she said. “What’s your favorite part?”
Michael felt himself relax into the conversation. He told her about the first seedlings he’d planted on his own, the satisfaction of watching them grow year after year. He described the quiet mornings when mist hung between the rows, and the way the pines smelled different after rain.
She listened intently, asking questions that showed she was really listening to him. In turn, he learned about her design work. How she’d transitioned from corporate branding to freelance after Emmy was born, finding more joy in crafting materials for small businesses with stories to tell.
The storm continued to rage outside, but neither of them checked the time. They traded stories and questions, each revelation bringing them a step closer. When Sarah laughed athis description of James’s failed attempt to operate the tree netter, her whole body leaned into his, and he didn’t pull away.
Eventually, their conversation drifted into comfortable silence. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting a soft orange light across the cabin. Michael added another log, watching as the flames licked at the fresh wood.
“Listen,” Sarah said suddenly, tilting her head.
Michael paused, focusing his attention outward. The howling had stopped. The relentless pounding of snow against the windows had ceased.
“I think the storm’s over,” he said, moving to the window.
Outside, the world had transformed. Everything was coated in pristine white, creating a landscape that looked almost magical in its stillness.
“Come see,” Michael said, his voice low with wonder. Even after all his years in Bear Creek, the first moments after a storm never failed to move him.
Sarah joined him at the window, her shoulder pressing against his arm as she peered out. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“Want to see it properly?” Michael asked. “There’s nothing quite like the first steps after a storm.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes.”
They bundled up quickly, Sarah wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck while Michael checked that the fire was safely banked. He opened the door carefully, revealing a world transformed.
The snow had drifted against the side of the cabin, forming a pristine wall nearly three feet high. Michael stepped out first, his boots crunching through the fresh powder as he created a path.
“It’s deep,” he warned, turning back to offer his hand.
Sarah took it without hesitation, her gloved fingers wrapping around his. He helped her navigate through the doorway and into the snow, steadying her as her feet sank into the powder.
The air was crystalline, so cold it almost hurt to breathe. The pine trees stood like sentinels, their branches heavy with snow that occasionally slipped free in soft plops.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Sarah said, her voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might shatter the perfect stillness.
They walked a few steps from the cabin, their breaths forming clouds in the frigid air. The snow was deeper than Michael had realized, nearly to his knees in places. Sarah struggled slightly, her shorter legs making each step an effort.
“There’s a drift ahead,” Michael said, pointing to where the wind had sculpted the snow into a waist-high wall. “We can go around, or...” He hesitated, then offered, “I could carry you over.”
Sarah looked at him, snowflakes catching in her dark hair. “Carry me?”
