Page 57 of The Holiday Grump
He flicked on the pendant lights, warming the space even more, then guided me to the couch. “Lie down.”
I collapsed, still bundled in my jacket and hat. “What about the sauna?”
“You’re too cold for the sauna.” He wrapped me in a heavy blanket, brisk and serious.
“Too cold for heat? That makes no sense.”
“You’re showing signs of hypothermia. A sauna could stress your heart.”
“I don’t have hypothermia! I’m just cold.”
“I’m not risking it. You could go into cardiac arrest.”
I scoffed, trying to unclench muscles that refused to obey. “My grandma’s sauna was mandatory. Like the sweet bread she baked… pulla… and liters of coffee. Nobody ever died.”
My words slurred. Exhaustion tugged at me like anesthesia.
He lifted the blanket and pulled off my mittens, examining my hands. His fingers felt hot to my touch. “These are like icicles.”
“I’m always cold. It’s normal.”
Ignoring my protests, he pulled off my boots andremoved my socks. “Oh my God. Your pinky toes… they’re white.”
I wiggled my toes. “Oh, don’t worry. They do that. The blood always comes back. Eventually.”
“This has happened before?”
“Sometimes.”
He slid a hand under the loose leg of my pajama pants, feeling behind my knee. “You’re too cold.”
I wasn’t sure if the shiver that followed was from the chill or his touch.
Suddenly, he stood up and stripped off his cardigan, shirt, and pants. I watched his clothes pile onto a chair, blinking at his muscled legs, my brain foggy.
“What are you doing?”
“Body heat,” he replied, and immediately moved to undress me.
He peeled off the blanket and yanked at the sleeve of my coat, making me feel like a three-year-old girl’s Barbie during a wardrobe change. Eventually, the coat came off, along with the sweater. I shivered in my tank top.
“Sorry,” he said. “I have to remove some layers for this to work.” He paused for a moment, glancing at my pajama pants.
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Take off my pants. But could you leave my undies on? Unless you’re offering pelvic exams.”
His face turned red. “I wasn’t going to… I mean…”
“And leave my socks on,” I begged. “I need them.”
He pulled my socks back on, lowered himself on the couch behind me, and wrapped the blanket over both of us.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. The safestway to raise your core temperature is by transferring my body heat to you. We must let your arms and legs warm up slowly to avoid cardiac issues or blood clots.”
I was fairly certain my core temperature was normal. My poor circulation was a genetic issue, and my arms and legs would eventually warm up. They always did. But I didn’t feel like arguing. Not when his heavy arm landed on me and that woodsy, masculine scent filled my lungs.
Fredrik was spooning me, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. My arms and legs ached as blood began to flow, but I didn’t mind the pain. It was overshadowed by the way his body spoke to mine. Like soothing whispers that settled my nerves and promised safety.
He held still, maybe out of respect or awkwardness, making it clear he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation. But I felt his deep inhale against the back of my head, and a breath he released was a little unsteady.
