“Oh, that is definitely first date material,” I assure him. “There’s no better meet-cute to be had.”
“It is one for the books.” He smirks, and it steals my breath. Those dimples of his pucker through his beard, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. “Come on, Birdie, you’re bleeding.”
When I glance down, I find droplets of blood in the snow. Tomorrow, my body will ache and demand all the painkillers.
I swear I’m the only person who can accomplish this level of klutziness.
Arlo scatters the snow to reveal a stepping-stone, and his chuckle rings through the air like chimes. “Would you look at that?”
Below his fingers sits the engraving of a moose.
Now I’m not one for coincidences, but this is an undeniable pattern that leaves my mouth hanging open in confusion.
“No.” I scatter the last of the snow. “Impossible.”
“Well, there is the story of the moose.” I know he’s teasing me, but I just can’t help the curiosity that burns within me.
“A moose?” I’ve gone and done it now. Kneeling in the cold snow, my jeans soaked through, I’m hanging on his every word, and from the look he’s giving me, he knows it.
“Legend has it that our forefathers built this town—a group of ice harvesters and their trusty moose. One day, a group of them got lost in these very woods, and they couldn’t find their way back after a heavy snowfall. These men were always good to the moose, you see, and one lone moose led them back to safety.” His face lights up as he tells his story. “Now, when anyone gets lost and can’t find their way, mother moose leads them home.”
I blink at him for a solid moment before I realize he’s telling me a tall tale. “That’s a movie!” I shove at his shoulders, watching as he falls to the ground.
“I’m serious,” he claims between fits of laughter.
“The one with the ice queen!”
“Elsa!” Lark chimes in from the porch.
“It’s based on this town,” Arlo says with such conviction that I grab a snowball and toss it at his face. “You didn’t.” He scowls.
“I did!” I gather the snow for another snowball, only for him to tackle me with the speed of a moose. Laughter bubbles all around us, spilling from my lungs to echo through the trees…until Arlo smothers my face in the snow and hops up before I can retaliate.
“Keep her from hurting herself more.” Arlo points to a smiling Lark, leaving me in the snow, soaked through, to carry up our suitcases.
“Hey!” I shout at him, and he glances over at me. “Aren’t you going to carry these up for me?”
“Naw.” His smile lights up his eyes. “You’re an independent woman, so I think you’ve got this.”
Oh, he’s sneaky. Dusting myself off, I stand and grab the suitcases and trudge through the snow.
“You should do that more often.” Lark grabs her suitcase.
“Do what?”
“Laugh.”
CHAPTER 4
We did not,in fact, head down to the graveyard, nor did we explore the town. After climbing the steps, eating a power bar, and taking a hot shower, neither Lark nor I wanted to head back out into the snow, so we called it a night.
Bacon seeps its siren’s scent under my door, and I throw off my bedspread just as Lark barrels inside. Wearing her unicorn onesie jammies, she looks far younger than her twelve years.
“What’s the etiquette for heading to breakfast in our pajamas?” I purse my lips as I ask the more intelligent of us two. It’s oh so tempting.
“Possibly frowned upon,” she answers in her angelic voice.
“But not impossible.”
