With a sigh, I shut the door. I take the empty mugs into the kitchen and lean back against the counter, closing my eyes. The burning smell has mostly faded, but I can still make out Ivan’s lingering scent—pine and peppermint.
That was it…
That was the last time I’ll see him.
It shouldn’t bother me this much. It shouldn’t hurt. I barely know Ivan, and he’s made it clear he wants to be left alone. Heck, after I invited him to my brother’s for Christmas, it was like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I need to stop bothering him. No more burned cookies or broken latches. It’s time to stop getting swept up in crazy fantasies and accept that Ivan is a middle-aged man, a lone wolf who doesn’t want to be around an annoying holiday-obsessed twenty-something like me.
Heck, I guess that will be my Christmas gift to Ivan.
Leaving him alone.
6
IVAN
It’s beenthree days since I last saw Ruby. Three painfully long days and four sleepless nights. Every morning I head into the woods—ignoring the biting cold and twinges in my leg—and start chopping wood in the thicket of fir trees near the rental cabin. I spend all day out there sometimes. Waiting. Hoping for a glimpse of Ruby. Hell, aside from a quick trip to Thorne’s to borrow a hatchet, I haven’t left my post except to sleep.
But I haven’t seen her.
Not once.
I imagine she’s holed up inside, avoiding the cold. I can just picture her curled on the couch, sipping hot chocolate, wrapped up in a Christmas sweater and looking adorable as hell. She can’t see me from the cabin. The windows are too high up. But sometimes, I find myself peering out of the trees and staring up at the front door, praying for it to open.
Yeah, I’m a fucking mess, and I know it.
It’s torture—being so close to her and feeling so damn far away. But I brought this on myself. When Ruby invited me to her brother’s place for Christmas, my “no” was instinctive. I don’t like being around people. The holidays don’t change that. And inthat moment, I saw myself as she must see me. A washed-up old loner. Someone to invite to places out of pity.
I still wish I’d swallowed my pride and said yes.
At least then I’d have a reason to see her again.
Hell, I’ve thought up a million excuses to knock on her door. Anything to hear that pretty little voice and see her face light up when I call her Candy Cane. But I never get farther than those damn stairs. Something always stops me. I’ll remember how young she is, how sweet and full of life. How a grizzled old grump like me has no business wanting her. Or I’ll remind myself that she lives in Miami. That no matter what happens, this can only end with Ruby leaving.
Fuck, this angel has really messed me up.
Now it’s Christmas Eve morning. The day before Ruby is due to check out and head to her brother’s. I blink up at the ceiling. It’s been another night of tossing and turning, listening to the wind howling outside. Thorne warned me there was a storm brewing. Sure sounds like it.
I raise my head to see North curled up near my feet, a white heap of fluff. I try not to disturb him as I ease out of bed, my leg screaming in protest when I stand up. After a quick shower, I pull on some clothes. I fill up North’s bowl, but don’t bother making breakfast for myself. I used to be hungry as hell in the morning, but since Ruby arrived, my appetite is basically nonexistent.
The living room is dark, with the wooden shutters still closed. The only light comes from the dying fire in the hearth, which I relight and stoke until it’s blazing. Then I pull open a window, reaching through it to unlatch the shutters. I try to push them open. But they don’t move. I push harder, the wood groaning beneath my hands, but there’s something blocking them from the outside.
The hell?
I try another window, but the shutters won’t budge. I have a feeling I know why. Just to be sure, I crack open the front door. An icy chill hits me, and through the gap, I make out a wall of white. It blocks the entire doorway.
Shit.
My thoughts instantly go to Ruby. The rental cabin is high up, so she won’t be snowed in. But her power could be out. And her car—that rusty old tinpot—will almost certainly be buried. I need to get to her. Make sure she’s okay.
I put on a coat and then pull down the ladder to the attic, ignoring my aching leg as I clamber up it. My snow shovel is in the corner, so I grab it. There’s only one window up here, but it’s big, and the shutters open easily. The snow is piled high on this side of the cabin. So high that I can reach the top without even jumping. I ease myself down the drift, shovel in hand. When I reach the bottom, I get to work, digging a path to my front door as fast as possible. Then I start walking.
Torrents of snowflakes tumble to the ground as I trudge through the forest. With every step, my boots sink ankle-deep into the top layer, glacial winds clawing at my face.
God-fucking-dammit.
It takes me twice as long as it usually does to reach the rental cabin. As expected, all I can see of Ruby’s car is the vague outline of the roof. The stilts supporting the cabin are half buried, and so are the wooden steps. But the front door is unblocked, and I climb toward it, knocking loudly to be heard over the storm.
Ruby pulls open the door. For a second, I can’t move. I drink her in like an addict finally getting my fix. She looks more beautiful than ever, her fiery hair falling in waves past her shoulders. She’s still in her pajamas, a row of white Christmas trees printed on the fleecy material, which does nothing to hide her thick curves. But when I meet her gaze, my heart sinks.Those big doe eyes are red-rimmed, still glistening with a sheen of tears.
