I shake my head. "No."
His hand tightens on my back. "Good."
My lips twitch. "That quick to be possessive, huh?"
He doesn’t deny it.
I rest my cheek against his chest again, letting the moment settle between us. Then, softly, I ask, "What do you do? I mean... besides hiding away in snowy cabins and rescuing frozen girls."
His chest rumbles under me in a low laugh.
"I own a custom woodworking and furniture business. Mostly high-end stuff. Commissions. Installations."
I lift my head a little, impressed. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. It keeps me fed. But I’ve got a crew that handles most of it now. I’m more of a recluse these days. My brother, Evan, checks in sometimes."
"Evan?"
"He’s the fire chief in Lovestone Ridge. Thinks it’s a crime I live out here alone."
"He sounds like a good brother."
"He is. Loud. Stubborn. But loyal."
I smile again. "So you’re not completely alone."
"No. Not completely."
He pauses. "What about you? What do you do, besides getting stranded in snowstorms and decorating strange cabins like a holiday elf?"
I bite my lip. "I’m an illustrator. Children’s books, mostly."
His brow lifts. "Of course you are."
"Hey!"
"You baked those tasty cookies, wore fuzzy socks, and lit up my cabin like something out of a snow globe."
I huff a laugh. "Okay, fair. I actually just finished illustrating a Christmas book. But the cabin isn’t that decorated. I only strung up some fairy lights. It still needs more color."
He groans. "Christmas book? Figures." He conveniently ignores the rest.
"It was really cute. Penguins with tiny scarves. You would’ve hated it."
"No. I would’ve hated loving it. Which I probably would."
My heart melts a little at that.
I shift slightly to look at him better, my leg sliding over his. His eyes darken just a bit at the contact.
"You know," I murmur, brushing a hand over his chest, "for someone who hates Christmas, you made this one feel... pretty unforgettable."
His gaze drops to my mouth. "You made it unforgettable."
I lean in. Slow, testing.
He meets me halfway.