"How'd you know?" she asked lightly, playing it off. They were standing close, not quite touching. She'd been trying to hide the fact that she was cold to the bone ever since they'd gotten out of the car.
Some bright idea she'd had.
Several yards up the walking trail, PJ and Casey were mugging underneath a giant arch of lights in the shape of a gift box with a bow on top. Lindsey was taking their picture with her birthday camera.
"Every time you shiver, your breath... I don't know. It's like you hold your breath or something."
She nudged his shoe with hers. "I didn't know you were paying such close attention."
There were places in the park so brightly lit it was like daytime. This was not one of them. In the dim light, she couldn't tell if he was blushing, but he looked away, his expression reading slightly embarrassed.
"It's my own fault," she said. "I forgot my scarf at home." And she should've worn two pairs of long underwear. Or checked the weather to see that a cold front was blowing in tonight. After ten minutes in the bitter temperatures, she'd unobtrusively checked the weather app on her phone only to find the weatherman was calling for a snowstorm overnight.
Radar could be wrong, and the storm might pass them by, but the cold front certainly hadn't.
"I read online that there's a hot chocolate stand around here somewhere," he said.
"On the other side of the park." She'd memorized its location, but it wasn't any use to her right now.
"Ah." Noah unzipped his coat and began shrugging it off.
"What are you doing?" she cried softly. "I'm not taking your coat."
"I've got on two sweatshirts," he argued. "You need it more than I do."
He was a master at juggling his cane while he slipped out of the coat and then he swung it around her shoulders, stepping even closer so that she felt a brush of the heat from his body.
The coat enclosed her in his heat and scent, and she burrowed in, sliding her arms into the sleeves as he fumbled with the zipper.
"Are the kids watching us?" he asked.
Kids? What kids?
She could hear their excited chatter—totally unfazed by the cold—and raised up on tiptoe to see them over Noah's shoulder. They were chasing each other around the light artwork in a figure eight pattern.
"They're not paying attention," she said.
And he slipped his hands under the edges of his coat, gripping her hips.
He pulled her a half-step closer, and his lips descended on hers.
His lips were cool, but his touch heated her from the inside.
He pulled back before the kiss got out of hand and touched their foreheads together—both cushioned by stocking caps. Their cold noses brushed.
"I've been thinking about kissing you all day," he whispered.
She leaned into him, accepting the strength and warmth he offered.
She could get used to this.
"What're you doing?" Casey's loud question had her breaking away from Noah's embrace quickly.
The kids had abandoned the light design and were standing a few feet away, staring.
She'd forgotten she was wearing Noah's coat until PJ's eyes popped wide.
She smoothed down its front. "Noah was giving me a hug, trying to keep me warm." It was the truth—sort of. The children didn't need to know all the gushy details.
