After the second run, we collapsed at the bottom, sprawled in the snow beside the sled. My legs trembled from the exertion, and my face hurt from smiling.
Ben sat up. "Getting hungry? I might have thermoses of hot chocolate in my truck. And I know a place with an excellent view."
"Let me guess—your workshop?"
"Actually..." He brushed snow from his hair. "There's a spot behind it. Kind of a secret garden in winter."
I couldn't resist. It was the first time he'd invited me to his home.
The backyard behind the workshop was a winter wonderland. Ben had strung white lights through bare tree branches, creating a canopy of stars over a small cleared space. Two Adirondackchairs—clearly his handiwork, the lines clean and the joints invisible—faced the valley below.
"When did you do all this?"
"The lights went up for Christmas." He handed me a thermos, his fingers brushing mine. "The chairs... well, maybe I was hoping for a reason to invite someone back here."
"Someone?" I raised an eyebrow.
"A very specific someone who might want to sit and watch the sunset over the valley." He ducked his head, focusing on unscrewing his own thermos. "Instead of being too busy with rehearsals and Broadway careers and..."
"Ben." I caught his hand. "I'm here now."
We settled into the chairs, shoulders touching. The hot chocolate was rich and complex—definitely not from a packet—hints of cinnamon, vanilla, maybe a touch of chili pepper.
"Holly's special blend." Ben wrapped both hands around his thermos. "She said something about it being good for opening hearts, and then she winked a lot."
I laughed. "Subtle as always."
"She means well." His fingers threaded through mine where our hands rested on the chair arm. "Though sometimes I wish she'd let things develop more naturally."
"Are we... developing naturally?" I gestured between us with my free hand.
"I don't know." His honesty caught me off guard. He stared out at the valley. "Feels right, though. Even if it's complicated."
A snowflake landed on Ben's cheek. Without thinking, I reached out to brush it away. His skin was warm despite the cold air. He leaned into my touch, eyes drifting closed for a moment.
This time, there were no church bells to interrupt us. We met over the gap between the chairs, and the kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but quickly deepened into something that made my toes curl in my boots. Ben's hand cupped my jaw, calluses roughagainst my skin in the best way, and I gripped his coat, pulling him closer. He tasted like chocolate and cinnamon and winter.
When we finally broke apart, Ben whispered, "Wow."
"Yeah. So..."
"So?"
I spoke before I could overthink. "Would you maybe want to have dinner? With me? Like a proper date, not just stolen moments between set construction and rehearsals?"
Ben's entire face transformed. His eyebrows shot up, his lips parting in surprise, and then a smile took over, making my stomach flip. "I'd love that. Though you should know I'm not much for fancy restaurants."
"Good thing. I was thinking of cooking for you." The offer surprised even me. "My grandmother taught me her lasagna recipe. The sauce takes four hours, but it's worth it."
"Four hours?" His eyebrows rose. "That's some serious commitment to pasta."
"More like a serious commitment to getting it right. Sometimes the best things take time."
Ben raised our hands and pressed a kiss to my palm. "When were you thinking?"
"This evening, after rehearsal?" I tried to sound casual despite my racing heart. "Unless that's too soon..."
"Too soon doesn't seem to be something we do." He pulled me into another kiss, this one deeper and more certain. My fingers tangled in his hair, and he made a soft sound in the back of his throat.
