Lila
Two days after Christmas, it’s time to let the animals have their freedom. Holt opens the gate that leads to the field and all hell breaks loose.
The ponies bolt first, tails high, kicking up powder all around them. The dogs tear after them, barking their heads off, slipping, rolling, colliding in ecstatic confusion. I can’t stop laughing—it’s mayhem, but the good kind.
Holt leans on the fence beside me, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Almost makes being snowed in worth it.”
“Oh, it was worth it,” I reply.
He arches a brow. “The storm, the blackout, the near-death drive?”
“All of it,” I say.
He turns to me, eyes locking onto mine.Thatfeeling goes through me again—a warm, shuddery longing, that’s never far away when I’m with him.
I hold his gaze, unflinching. “Every minute.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower. “Yeah?”
His eyes darken, that low growl starting deep in his chest before he clears his throat and shakes himself.
“If you’re not careful, those ponies are gonna be left to their own devices for a while.”
A smile plays on my lips as the thought rises deliciously.
Then one of the dogs barrels past and sprays us both with icy slush.
I brush my face, laughing helplessly.
Holt shakes his head, muttering something about chaos and domesticated beasts.
We watch the animals until they start to tire, the ponies snorting, the dogs flopping into the drifts with tongues lolling. The air is filled with panting, shaking, snuffling—the sound of uncomplicated, joyous life.
My heart’s so full I could burst. The last two days have been a dream—one long, perfect Christmas that never ends.
We’ve eaten too much, laughed too loud, barely left the bed except to feed the animals. The power’s still out, but who cares? Every moment with Holt feels like something I didn’t think was possible until now.
The peace shattersbefore I even know why. The dogs’ lazy panting shifts into sharp barks, attention snapping toward the trees.
Holt’s head lifts. “You hear that?”
“What?” I strain my puny human ears. Hear nothing.
“One of those darn electric ski machines.”
A long minute later, there’s a sound—low, mechanical, alien after so many days of nothing but wind and animal noise and Christmas carols played on repeat.
The hum rises into a growl, closer every second. Holt straightens from the fence, muscles bunching.
The dogs race toward it, barking furiously.
A snowmobile bursts from the tree line, spraying snow as it skids to a stop in front of the gate. The rider cuts the engine and flips up a visor.
Holt’s at my side before I’ve taken a second breath. His hand finds the small of my back. He doesn’t say a word, just stands there—broad, still, eyes fixed on the newcomer with that assessing stare of his.
A man’s voice carries across the open air. “Hey! You’re alive!”
I blink, startled. “Who?—?”
