“You’re welcome,” Holden replied quietly.
She hadn’t said thank you before. No, she’d said he’d been sneaking around the property again and that she was fully capable of starting her own fire. But Holden didn’t throw those words back at her, and that was a restraint he’d never exercised in the past.
She shuddered. Her hands cuffed her arms and rubbed for friction.
Holden wouldn’t hog all the warmth for himself. Without saying a word, he lifted his arm and the corner of the blanket, altogether surprised when she easily slid under it. No hesitation, no biting remark.
He settled the fabric around her and held her close to his side.
Maybe she wasn’t fully awake. Maybe this was some prolonged bout of sleepwalking and she would suddenly come to, horrified to be so close to him.
He didn’t really believe that, but he also couldn’t believe she would voluntarily share this blanket. This proximity. This moment.
“It’s a nice fire.” Her voice was gentle, peaceful. “You did a good job.”
“I try.”
“I know.” He felt her head nod against his chest. “You’ve always tried with me, Holden. Tried to be nice when I was nothing but immature and overconfident.”
“I wouldn’t say I was all that nice.”
“You asked me to the Winter Ball in eighth grade. That’s a pretty nice thing to do.”
“Sure.” He lifted a sulky shoulder. “But then you never gave me an answer and went with that Cody kid instead. I couldn’t get your attention.”
He’d been trying to ever since.
Angling to look up at him through thick lashes, she asked, “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know you were the one asking me?”
“Probably not.”
“I’m serious.” She straightened. “I thought it was Cody. I thought he made the cookies and left them for me to unscramble. It wasn’t until last week that my mom told me it had been you this entire time.”
“For such a smart cookie, you didn’t do a great job figuring that out.”
She laughed at his joke. “I didn’t think someone like you would want to go to a dance with someone like me.”
“You mean someone with two left feet who barely weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet? Because that’s the only way to describe me back then.”
Nestling back under his arm, she moved a hand to his chest. “We were both late bloomers. Like,reallylate bloomers.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” He worried she could feel his heart hammering beneath her open palm. Its kick drum beat made his ribcage ache. What was happening between them? Was it the late hour and the winter storm that had brought on this sudden storm of emotion too? Holden couldn’t make sense of any of it.
“You are almost unrecognizable,” she confessed.
“Almost? So you’re saying there was a piece of you that recognized me, Mittens?”
A breathy giggle released from her lips. “I recognized your spirit. Your quick wit and playful jabs.” She paused and looked forward, as though searching for the words in the flames that danced in front of them. “Honestly, I think I didn’t want it to be you. I put blinders on to the possibility that it was.”
“Why’s that?” He smoothed down a strand of her hair that caught on the blanket and kept his hand on the crown of her head, holding her close.
“Because I’m in San Francisco and you’re in Snowdrift,” she conceded. “And I’m Rachel Joy and you’re Holden Hart.”
“Sworn enemies.” His chest lifted with a laugh.
“Something like that.” Her fingers fiddled with a button on his flannel shirt.
Of its own volition, his hand covered hers.
