“Too late now.” I wink.
“You know I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure Gerald could carry me across the street physically. Let alone have the motivation to do it out of the kindness of his heart,” she mutters, maybe almost to herself.
“Well, that’s because Gerald is a mean idiot.” I pocket the keys as I exit the car.
I can hear her guffaw right before I open the door to her side and pull her up into my arms again. When she’s this close, her scent, the same one I’ve been picking up everywhere, is enough to give me a contact high.
What is it about Daphne that’s making me feel this way?
“You know, you can’t just keep carrying me around like some kind of—”
“Knight in shining armor?” I offer cheekily.
“I was going to say, like a one-man sled team.”
“Close enough.”
She wraps her arms around my neck despite her grumbling and lets me carry her back to the gondola so that we can make our way back up the mountain before the snow gets too bad.
“Last ride of the night,” I announce, unlocking the cab and stepping inside.
“Does that mean Gerald will be stuck here tonight?” she asks, mouth drawn tight.
“I already saved his life, do I have to give him a ride too? I’m sure the inn could take him in.” I wait before pressing the lever that will let us ascend back up the mountain.
She chews her lip for a moment before a look of determination crosses her face.
“Fuck ’em, let’s go!”
Chapter ten
Daphne
Andriishalf-buriedinone of the bathroom cabinets, muttering to himself like he’s on some kind of archaeological dig. Bottles rattle, doors creak, and there’s even the distinct clonk of something hitting his head.
“Ouch, shit!”
Seconds later he emerges clutching what looks like an antique treasure: a vintage first aid kit in a dented white-and-red tin, the edges slightly rusted like it’s survived at least three world wars and maybe a zombie apocalypse.
“Found it!” he yaps happily, holding it aloft like Indiana Jones with the Holy Grail. Without missing a beat, he snags the flimsy plastic bag out of the hotel ice bucket, then marches dramatically onto the balcony.
“Behold!” he declares, scooping two fistfuls of fresh snow. He crams it into the bag, twists the top shut, and reenters with a smug little grin. “Figured I’d save myself a trip to the machine. Efficient and eco-friendly.”
He laughs at his own joke, only to pause when he notices me shivering. The storm wind is brutally cold, but of course the yeti wouldn’t notice. His smile flickers into concern. Without a word, he shuts the balcony door firmly behind him. Then, in a gentle whirl of movement, he drops onto the large ottoman in front of the couch where he’d set me down like I was precious cargo instead of the awkward klutz I am.
“Do you think you’re gonna wanna stay up, or should we head to bed?” he asks softly.
My brain short-circuits at the wordbed.
“Oh—um—wow. Uh, you’re really nice, but I’m not sure I’m ready to… y’know, jump into bed with anyone? I mean, not that I’m not flattered—because obviously you’re… I mean, look at you—”
His hand shoots up, blue fingers splayed, his face flushing a suspicious shade of purple that’s probably mortification.
“I meant”—he clips the words as he struggles not to choke on his own embarrassment— “where do you want me to carry you before I go to bed. In my own room.”
“Oh my god,” I groan, covering my face with both hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—I just—ugh. Bed. The bed sounds nice. I’ll take the bed.”
Every syllable trips over itself like dominoes of humiliation.
