I smile before I can stop myself.
Then I notice my breath fogs faintly in the air.
“Okay,” I whisper to no one. “That’s not normal.”
I carefully slide out from under his arm, immediately regretting it when the cold hits me full force. Goosebumps race up my legs as I grab one of his shirts from the floor and tug it on, basking in his scent lingering on the fabric—clean, woodsy, comforting.
The house is dim. Gray light filters through the windows, muted and flat.
I flick the lamp switch.
Nothing.
Try another.
Still nothing.
“Well,” I murmur. “That explains it.”
When I turn back, Rhett is awake now, propped up on one elbow, watching me with sleepy eyes and a slow, lazy smile.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough and warm.
“Morning,” I reply. “We have no power.”
That wakes him up faster than coffee ever could.
He swings his legs out of bed and pads past me, checking the thermostat, then the window.
“Storm must’ve knocked it out,” he says. “Looks like the roads got bad overnight. No doubt they’re closed.”
“No power,” I repeat. “Bad roads.”
He looks at me, really looks at me. A soft smile settles on his face.
“Library’ll be closed, too,” he says. “I won’t need to open the hardware store.”
I nod slowly.
“So,” I say, my pulse ticking a little faster. “Nowhere to be.”
“Looks like it.”
Silence stretches between us.
Rhett steps closer, hands sliding to my hips, his forehead resting against mine. “You okay being snowed in with me?”
I laugh softly. “I don’t think I’d want to be anywhere else.”
“Let’s get you some warm clothes, then I’ll go light a fire in the fireplace.”
Bundled up in Rhett’s sweatpants and his hoodie that fits me just right, I curl up under a blanket on the couch. He starts a fire, the crackle and warmth filling the space with a hint of nostalgia and holiday magic.
He makes us both some coffee on the gas stove and offers me some sugar cookies for a makeshift breakfast since there’s not much else to choose from given the situation.
Outside, the snow keeps falling. Inside, the world has gone quiet and small and perfect.
“This is nicer than I expected,” I murmur.
