Page 121 of Snowed In
“I don’t even know how I’d go about doing it.”
“Easy. You take him to your bed and you—”
“Frankie.”
“You flirt with the guy!” she exclaims. “You touch his arm. You look him in the eye. You smile and you laugh, and you tell him you’re cold and give him no choice but to warm you. You’re an excellent flirt, Megan. This should not be hard.”
I make a face. “Maybe I should just go talk to him.”
“No,” she says firmly. “Talking’s boring. Talking’s for non-trapped people on bad first dates in mid-priced restaurants. Go get lost in the woods.”
“No.”
“Make him find you.”
“I’m going to talk with him.”
Like we should have done the other night. Before he got all…close.
We should have done it today too, but things got busy. First, we called our families to tell them what was going on and then spent thirty minutes trying to free the car just in case we could get down. We couldn’t, of course, and Christian made me go inside and take a bath when I started shivering.
But the bath just made me sleepy and I decided to rest my eyes, and an hour later, I woke up. I’m not surprised, I barely slept at all yesterday. Christian didn’t need much care other than forcing some painkillers down his throat and making sure he was hydrated, but I was still worried. I vaguely remember calling both our families and explaining what had happened, but the conversations are a blur. All my attention was on him. And seeing as how he slept for most of that time, it left me with nothing but my thoughts. And I had a lot of them.
Of him. Of me. Of everything.
What happened in the car after the fundraiser can be explained. A little pent-up frustration, some high emotions, both of us looking the best we ever looked. What were we going to do?Notmake out? But to do that once can be laughed off. Twice…
I fall back on the bed, clutching the phone to my ear as Frankie gives me a detailed rundown of everything I should do, say, and before I can stop her, touch. Only then do I convince her to let me hang up, and when I do, I head over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room to see what we have to work with.
I definitely don’t look like I did the night of the party. I’ve traded a ball gown for the same sweatshirt and leggings I’ve been wearing for two days that the addition of a cabin robe does nothing to complement. I don’t have my makeup. I don’t even have a hairbrush.
But I also don’t really care.
Christian’s never shown any indication that he likes me to look or act a certain way. Be anyone other than who I am in any given moment and so, before I can chicken out, I open the bedroom door.
Night has fallen sharply in the last few hours, and the cabin is dark, bar a flickering light filtering up the stairs. The hallway smells rich and decadent, scented with garlic and onions and wine, and my mouth waters as I creep toward the banisters.
“Christian?”
There’s no answer, but I hear the faint clang of pots that must be coming from the kitchen. I should probably go back until he’s ready, but I’m too curious and too hungry to wait, so I tiptoe down the stairs, only to almost trip at the bottom when I see what awaits me.
The living room has been transformed. Gone is the swanky, magazine-spread feel, and in its place is a vision from a storybook.
Nat King Cole croons softly from the stereo, and the television plays an old black-and-white movie with the volume turned down low. The strings of fairy lights we’d found bundled in one of the cabinets have been detangled and strung both around the room and the furniture. Besides the roaring fire, they’re the only source of light, and it casts the place in a warm, safe glow that makes me feel instantly at ease.
I walk over to the couch, running my fingers over the mound of blankets he’d draped over it, but I’ve barely taken a breath when Christian enters the room, stopping abruptly when he sees me.
“You’re up.”
He says it accusingly like I’ve foiled his plan.
“You did all this?”
“Me? Nah. It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“And what’s that—” I blush as my stomach grumbles, cutting me off.
“Smell?” Christian asks with a knowing look. “That’s the elves.”
