I put my wine on the coffee table and glanced at the firewood stacked beside the fireplace. “Do you think there’s enough wood to last until Monday?”
Dan’s brow furrowed as he considered my words. His grey hair shimmered in the firelight; the strands turned from silver to molten gold. It made him even more beautiful. When we were young, he had a head full of brown hair that never stayed tame. It was one of my favourite things about him. His hair had changed colour, but he was still tall and wiry with taut muscles. I’d lost my firmness in menopause.
He studied the pile of chopped wood. “Maybe not. We better get some more before it gets dark.”
“Did you see a woodpile?”
Dan shook his head and walked to a window, craning his neck to see if there was a pile on the porch. The move made his moleskins meld with his butt. I forced myself to look elsewhere. This was no time to think about his butt, or any other part of his body.
“I think there’s a woodshed but it’s hard to tell,” he said.
“Is there a map or information booklet?”
He strode to the bench and held up a portfolio. “Beauty and brains.”
“That’s why you brought me, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “They’re not the only reasons.”
My heart beat faster. “Is that so?”
He blushed and turned his attention to the paper in front of him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Dan blush. He was usually brazen and confident.
“The woodshed is out the back, twenty or so metres from the door.”
I stood up. “Let’s go.”
We put on our coats and boots.
Dan reached forward and turned up my collar. His fingers brushed my skin. The spot heated at his touch, even though I was stiff from anticipating the cold outside. I nearly melted at the intensity in his blue-grey eyes.
“Hat and gloves,” he said, his voice deeper than normal.
I nodded.
“Ready,” I said.
He opened the door, and the wind and gusts of snow barrelled in through the opening. I moved closer to him as the cold, icy wind pricked at my skin. Shit, it was beyond cold.
“You can stay here if you like,” he said.
“If you’re going, I’m coming.”
“OK.”
We stepped outside. He used his weight to pull the door closed behind us. Thank goodness he moved off quickly because I swear if we stood still any longer, I would have frozen to the spot. We walked slowly across the porch and down the stairs. I held onto his arm until we hit firm ground, worried about slipping.
The world beyond was grey and shadows. The snow had wiped out anything discernible that was smaller than the cabin.
We trudged to the woodshed. I tried to step into the deep holes left by his feet, but his legs were longer than mine. I misstepped and landed face down in a deep snowdrift with a yelp. I sat up spluttering. Dan turned around and pulled me up. We overbalanced and fell together into the snow.
Laughter bubbled up inside me as I looked down on him underneath me. “Sorry.”
Dan stared up at me, his gaze locked on mine. The laughter died on my lips. Clouds of steam from our breath mingled in the cold air. We were chest to chest. My heart thumped, and the beat drummed in my ears. Could he feel it, hear it? I shook my head. There were too many layers between us for that.
I struggled to stand and elbowed Dan. He grunted. I laughed even harder. The cold air stung my lungs as I inhaled deeply, trying to catch my breath. Dan and I latched onto each other, supporting one another to stand. When we were finally upright, we held each other tight.
Dan smiled. “You alright?”
