“It’s so beautiful here,” Grace said when reached the small ticket window.
Snowy mountains in the distance, pine trees, and rolling white hills looked absolutely unreal. She couldn’t imagine living somewhere so beautiful. Once she got used to the cold, she’d want to spend all of her time outside. Palm trees and heat had nothing on this. Miami had never felt magical. Not like this.
“It is,” Alix said, her attention on the horizon. But she didn’t let herself stay in the moment. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a lip balm. “Here. Reapply so you don’t transform lips first into an alligator.”
“You weren’t kidding about the dry air,” Grace said while taking the lip moisturizer that never seemed to last long enough. She was applying it when the biggest horses she’d ever seen trotted out to them like they were filming a Budweiser commercial. “Holy shit.”
“Don’t worry.” Alix patted her back. “Clydesdales are very friendly. They only kill people who displease them.”
Grace couldn’t look away from the animals that were all solid muscle. What if they got spooked and tore off into the woods at the base of the hill? What if they ran into the street and into traffic, light as it was?
“If you don’t want—” Alix furrowed her brow like she was primed to request a refund.
“No, no. I want to.” She started on the dirt path to the real-life red sleigh that fit six, even if there was no one else around. “When else can I say I was this close to Mrs. Claus cosplay?”
The joke did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. The one aware of all the ways this could go painfully wrong. It washer chance to be alone, and they hadn’t even signed a waiver. She soothed herself with that knowledge. If they’d ever had a disastrous accident on the premises, they’d have learned the hard way to warn people about the inherent risks.
As soon as they were settled in the last row of the sleigh, Alix reached for the black-and-red-checked blanket next to her. It was thick and warm and Grace had absolutely no ego about covering herself with it from the nose down. She’d been to New York in February, but there was something about the wide-open country that made it so much colder.
“Do you want hot chocolate?” Alix relayed the sleigh-driver’s question Grace registered belatedly.
She pulled Helen’s fluffy pink hat over her ears. “Do they have oat milk?”
Alix laughed and leaned in close. Close enough for the addictive scent of her cologne to mix with the pristine scent of nature that no chemical combination could ever recreate. “Bellvue pretty much only has two exports: milk, and fancy yogurt made from that milk. I think I’d be run out of town if I suggested an alternative option.”
“What?” She covered her spike in adrenaline from Alix’s proximity with a mildly deranged shriek laugh. “What if you were lactose intolerant?”
Alix shrugged. “Only terrorists hate milk, Gator,” she said, but she couldn’t deliver the entire line without laughing. “Real Americans shit their pants.”
“Duly noted,” she replied with a laugh and an unreasonable warmth spreading over her skin.
The sled lurched forward, moving faster than Grace expected over the packed snow. As soon as the icy wind slapped her in the face, she scooted closer to Alix.
A racing heartbeat later, Alix had her arm around her. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly.
Alix was suddenly so close. Her lips were only inches from hers. Grace couldn’t feel her face, but she was sure that kissing Alix would thaw her out.
“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Alix muttered, gaze focused on Grace like she’d rather look at her than the incredible scenery. Like the lightly falling snow and the sleigh and the mountains were background noise.
“There’s nowhere else I’d want to be,” Grace admitted too easily.
Alix’s smile was the sun rising over clouds, blinding and hopeful. She moistened her lips but couldn’t suppress the grin that lit Grace on fire from the inside.
Grace turned toward Alix, heart racing. She leaned in gradually, giving Alix every excuse to pull away. But she didn’t. She was right there, watching her like she was waiting for Grace to move in another centimeter. To remove all doubt that she wanted Alix to kiss her.
Their noses nearly brushed. Grace’s lips parted despite chattering teeth she couldn’t blame on the weather?—
“They say this route was made to connect to the main fur trade trail that ran through here a hundred years ago.” The driver’s voice cut through the moment. “Beaver was big then,” he continued cheerily. “You ever felt a beaver pelt? It’s the softest fur you’ll ever touch.”
Whiplashed, Grace’s nervous system malfunctioned and responded with an embarrassing and inappropriate snort. Pretending to be freezing, she hid half her face in the blanket.
“A whole pelt, huh?” Alix replied to make her laughter worse. “Nope. I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
Under the blanket, Grace squeezed Alix’s leg in a silent plea for her to stop. But she was, apparently, full of beaver jokes, from “I hear once you get your hands on a good beaver, you never forget it” to “I’m a big fan of wildlife. Try to leave everybeaver better than I found it” and even an additional “You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat a beaver.” Grace realized their driver had either never heard of a euphemism in his life, or he’d knowingly engaged Alix in a battle of childish wits.
With every cheeky turn of phrase Alix offered, Grace fell just a little harder. By the time they were back where they started, Grace was sure there was no way to leave Alix without heartache.
The snow was falling again when they pulled into the drive, fat lazy flakes drifting through the halo of the porch light. Grace’s boots had fully betrayed her. By the time they reached the house, her toes were screaming, she was slipping everywhere, and her feet were soaked.
