“That was theworsttackle I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I was going for,” she says with a coy smile. She’s close enough I’m tempted to press my lips to hers. Find out one way or another if those feelings we had months ago still exist on her end. For a moment, we share airspace, lost in a staring contest. Then she breaks it with the slow lick of her bottom lip. “Shall we continue with the snowman?”
Hesitantly pulling out of my grasp, she gives my arm a quick squeeze and jumps back into the snowman project while I pour more bourbon.
“This’ll help you stay warm,” I say, handing over the glass.
“That’s a myth. But thank you.” She takes a quick swig, never taking her eyes off mine.
Side by side, she and I push balls of snow around like we’re young kids. At one point, I trip, destroying my hard work, and Eira’s laugh carries across the entire ranch. It echoes off the log cabin, and the trees, and my heart.
By the time we’re finished, my cheeks are aching from laughter and my nose is entirely frozen. And I’ve never felt so weightless.
“She’s beautiful,” Eira says, taking a step back to admire our handiwork—which now also features a carrot nose and Eira’s fancy silk scarf.
“Great first snowman, Doodlebug.”
“Why Doodlebug?”
I shrug. “Was the first thing that popped into my head after I saw you sitting alone, completely transfixed by your drawing despite the bedlam around you.”
“That’s how I deal with the chaos.” She wanders a few feet away and flops into the crisp powder, laying back to create an angel with the slow sweeping motion of her limbs. “I get anxious in new situations, but drawing gets me out of my head.”
A shiver racks my body as I sink down next to her. “I get that… You got me out of my head that night.”
She cranes her neck to look at me with a smile. Snowflakes cling to every strand of dark hair peeking out from under her toque, glimmering in the dark. “Lucas, I don’t know what—oh my God, look at th—“
She cuts her sentence short, pointing up to the sky. Blues and purples and greens dance across a pitch-black backdrop. Ribbons of colour swirling, spreading wide and looping back inon themselves, stretched across the night like an uncoiled slinky—pulling something inside me taut until it’s begging to snap. The beautiful Aurora Borealis, and the even more stunning Eira Davies. With icy glitter in her hair, wide-eyed joy on her face, and a hand suddenly gripping mine on the snowy ground.
“That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Her free hand curves through the air above us, painting each colourful streak.
“Mmm, I know what can top it,” I mumble under my breath, ignoring the colour show and staring at her.
“Hrm?” She allows her eyes to flit to mine before returning to the sky above us.
I clear my throat. “Those are the northern lights. We get pretty great views of them up here.”
“Wow. I’d love to try and draw them…” The amount of wonder and wistfulness in her voice makes my chest ache. “You get this all the time?”
“All winter long.”
The snow under her crunches as she tips her head to look at me. “I can see why you moved out here.”
The sight stole my breath the first winter I spent here. Then I got busy working my ass off to maintain this place, never bothering to stay up late enough to catch a glimpse. It’s been years too long. So much time passed, there have been a few times when I’ve nearly forgotten the reason I moved here in the first place. But lying on the frozen earth with Eira’s warmth seeping through my damp glove, I finally feel grateful for this ranch again.
Chapter eight
Eira
“At least there’s no chance you’ll accidentally draw a misshapen body part if you’re painting a picture of the sky.”
“Don’t count that out just yet. Clouds look an awful lot like butts sometimes.”
“I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with butts.”
“I draw a lot of smutty artwork for authors. It comes with the territory.”
“Smutty artwork?” He rolls to his side, hungry eyes pinning me against the snow. Leaving me in the midst of a battle between fire in my veins and ice on my skin. “Like what?”
