Crunch. Crunch.
“It’s beautiful!” Natasha yelled over their footsteps. “I feel like a real princess out here!”
Crunch. Crunch.
“You mail pieces of tears?” he yelled back.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Natasha laughed as she leaned back, so she was closer to his ear. “The snow doesn’t know that it’s supposed to be fluffy and romantic right now,” she shouted.
“What? You’ve never been serenaded by crunching and squeaking before? You’ve never been truly wooed, then!” They made it to the bench.
She shook her head, her lengthy hair bouncing on her shoulders. With the strike of a match, he soon had the candles flickering and the blankets tucked around the two of them. A few clouds dotted the starry sky, their outlines traced by silver moonlight. He mixed cocoa into the kettle and handed Natasha a cup.
“It’s so beautiful here.” She held it up for him to pour cocoa. He was careful not to splash it onto her gloves. “I can’t believe this is your life.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one has a view like this.” She lifted her cup toward the lake. “Not every night.”
Jack tipped his head back and took in the surrounding majesty. “It changes. Every season—even week to week.”
“How often do you come here?”
“Not often enough.” He’d like to bring her here. Every season. Even week to week.
“How many dates have you brought here before? Hmm?” She looked into her cup and then took a drink. She didn’t fool him with her casual question.
“Look, I know you probably heard some rumors about me.” He put his arm on the back of the bench, and she leaned against him.
“What? Noooo.” She took a sip of cocoa, looking away from him.
He took off his glove and touched her hair. It was soft and silky. Beautiful. “I do date—more than other guys. The thing is,” his stomach tightened with nerves. Speaking openly to a woman—on the first date, no less—was difficult. “I’m not casually dating. I want to find my partner—my best friend.”
“Best friend?” Her eyebrows rose. “Don’t you have a twin brother? I thought those bonds were lifetime things.”
He smiled, thinking of Caleb. “There are parts of me I don’t share with anyone—not even him. Though he gets more than his fair share, as I’m sure he’d tell you.”
She smiled into her cocoa. “Like what?”
“Like those few moments before I fall asleep. I want to share my pillow with soft, silky hair.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Poet,” she nudged him with her shoulder and then laid her head on him.
He drew in a breath. “The truth about this place, though? I’ve brought one date here.” He hooked his finger under her chin. “One beautiful, stubborn, wonderful striped-tights-wearing elf.”
Her cheeks dusted with color, and she turned away. “You had to mention the tights,” she muttered into her cup.
He chuckled. “Yes. Because you look smashing in them.” He clinked his mug to hers and then took a drink.
She relaxed and then lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “It’s too wonderful, Jack. All of this. It feels like a dream.”
Jack shifted so he could set their drinks aside. He shucked his glove and cupped the side of her face in his warm palm. Her skin was cold and yet so very soft. “It’s real. So very real to me.” He leaned in and kissed her, moving slowly and exploring her mouth. Natasha was the one he’d been waiting for; he knew it as strongly as he knew reindeer could fly.
He’d lost his heart to this woman, and he didn’t want it back.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
