Page 10 of Love in a Christmas Storm
Amber’s brows lifted. “There’s no pull-out in that cabin.”
“You can sleep on the rug again,” Lettie said to Carlos.
“You can sleep in my bed,” offered Amber.
Carlos backed away a step, nearly knocking into a Christmas tree behind him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll hang with the bear.”
He turned and followed Lettie, who was already halfway to the door. She didn’t wait for him. He caught up with her just outside, crunching through the fresh layer of snow on the path.
His car was still miles back, buried halfway in a ditch, flashing its hazard lights into the void. He should’ve been frustrated. Annoyed. Maybe even embarrassed.
But he wasn’t.
Not even close.
Because being stuck in Honor Valley meant another night near her. Not hovering or pushing—he knew better than that—but near enough to listen if she needed him. Near enough to keep noticing the things no one else did: the way she turned her head slightly when something hurt. The way her hands stilled when something mattered.
The rug again? Sure. The floor? Fine. He’d sleep standing if it meant another chance to see what she looked like in firelight.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Lettie glanced sideways at him. “For what?”
He smiled, brushing snow from his shoulder. “For not sacrificing me to Amber. For letting me be the inconvenience you tolerate.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t argue either.
Inside the cabin, the warmth was only theoretical. The space was chilly, the air filled more with silence than heat. They’d each claimed separate corners. Carlos sat at the small table near the window. Lettie curled onto the bed, laptop balanced on her knees like a shield.
She hadn’t looked at him since they came in.
Carlos stared at the blinking cursor on his screen. It mocked him with its steady, pulsing beat—like it knew he had nothing to say. Or maybe too much.
He angled his head toward her. “Hey, Lettie?”
She didn’t look up. “Hmm?”
“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For earlier. When I laughed.”
That got her attention. Not her eyes but her body. She froze, spine going rigid, hands pausing over the keyboard like she was bracing for something sharp. Head tilting as though she was waiting for the blow.
Carlos immediately regretted bringing it up. He should’ve waited. Or just let it lie. He always tried to fix things too fast.
But then she exhaled through her nose and said, “Forget it.”
“I’d rather not,” he said quietly.
That earned him a glance. Brief but direct.
“It’s not the first time someone’s laughed at me. Won’t be the last.”
And just like that, she was back to typing. Her expression was blank, but her eyes—those piercing glacier-blue eyes—had gone dark around the edges, like someone had drawn a curtain behind them.
Carlos turned his attention to the fireplace. If he couldn’t fix what he’d broken, maybe he could at least make her a little more comfortable.
He knelt and fumbled with the logs, trying to remember the order. Was it kindling first, then the bigger pieces? There was a gas starter, too, but the knob was stuck, and he couldn’t find the long lighter?—
“You’re going to smoke us out,” Lettie said flatly, suddenly beside him.
