Page 3 of First Kissmas
“I’ll be fine. Get some rest.”
With that, he steps out into the storm. Through the window, I watch him wade through the deepening snow toward his truck. The room key weighs heavy in my hand as I watch his truck grow less visible in the thickening storm.
I think of Ryder’s careful distance when I was scared. His steady hands on the wheel. The way he never asked why I was running.
I look down at the key, then at his dark truck being slowly buried in snow.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m going out into the storm after him.
2
RYDER
The cold seeps through my coat as I try to find a comfortable position in the truck. Snow has already built up on the windshield, obscuring the inn’s glowing windows. It would be easier inside, where she is. Warmer. More comfortable, even on that tiny cot. But putting this distance between us is safer.
A knock on my window startles me. Through the gathering snow, I make out her face, her lips already turning blue from the cold. The sight sends a fresh surge of protectiveness through me.
I crack open the window. “Go back inside.”
“Not without you.” Her teeth chatter as she speaks. “The temperature is dropping.”
“There’s no room for me in there.”
“There’s the cot.”
“I’ll take up the whole damn hallway.”
She wraps her arms around herself, snow collecting on her shoulders. “Please. You can stay in my room.”
“You need your space.”
“I won’t be able to sleep, knowing you’re out here like this.”
I study her face in the dim light. The last thing she needs is to feel trapped in a room with a stranger.
“I’m not going back inside until you do,” she says, snow continuing to gather in her hair.
She’s not lying. I recognize the stubborn set of her jaw, the determination in her stance. She stands perfectly still, waiting me out.
I blow out a sigh. “Fine. You win. But I’m only doing this to get you back inside.”
Relief flashes across her face as she steps back, giving me room to open the door. As I’m getting out, the wind nearly knocks her over. I steady her with one hand, then quickly let go, ignoring how the moment of contact stirs something inside me.
The room is small but clean, with a double bed and a small table. A radiator clicks and hums beneath the windowsill. She stands near the door as I get the cot unfolded, her arms still wrapped around herself.
“My name is Courtney,” she says quietly.
The sound of her name hits me harder than it should. “You’re safe with me, Courtney. I promise you that.”
She swallows, her eyes lingering on me for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m going to get changed.”
She disappears into the bathroom with her backpack. The room is small enough that her scent lingers, something floral mixed with cold air. I force myself to focus on making up my spot onthe floor. As I get settled, I hear water running in the bathroom, cloth rustling. The domesticity of it twists something in my chest.
Just then, a violent gust of wind rattles the window. Something crashes outside. Courtney bursts out of the bathroom, her eyes wide. She backs away from the window, almost colliding with me.
“It’s all right.” I keep my voice low, steady. “Probably just a branch.”
Her whole body trembles. Not from cold this time.