The knock came as the couple on screen was about to kiss under the mistletoe.
Outside the massive windows, the December darkness had settled in fully, that early winter night that came before six o'clock. The blizzard had transformed the world beyond the glass into a swirling wall of white, illuminated only by the cabin's exterior lights. Inside, the fire popped and crackled, filling the room with the scent of burning pine. My Christmas movie played on low volume, the dialogue barely audible over the wind rattling the windows.
Hot chocolate sloshed over the rim of my mug, scalding my thumb. I hissed, shaking my hand. My laptop slid sideways on the couch cushion.
Another knock. Louder this time. More insistent.
Who the hell was out in this weather?
I set my mug down and walked to the door. Through the frosted glass panel, I could barely make out a silhouette—tall,broad-shouldered, wearing what looked like a cowboy hat. Snow whipped around him in violent gusts.
"Ma'am?" The voice was deep, rough with cold. "I need to come in. It's getting cold out here."
It's getting cold out here.
Melody's text. The "special delivery" she'd promised. The mystery gift she wouldn't explain.
Oh my god. She'd sent me a stripper.
Blood rushed to my face. I was going to kill her.
"Look," I called through the door, "I appreciate the effort, but I don't think—"
"Please." The urgency in his voice made me hesitate. "I'm lost and she's freezing. Need to warm her up and get directions."
Either he was a really good actor, or there was actually a problem.
I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open.
Wind tried to rip it from my hand. Cold air blasted in, carrying snow with it. I braced my shoulder against the door.
The man on my porch stood well over six feet tall, broad shoulders straining against a heavy Carhartt jacket crusted with snow. Dark scruff covered a strong jaw. A brown Stetson sat at an angle that should've been illegal, dusted white, casting shadows across his face. When he looked at me—dark eyes, intense—my breath caught. Heat flooded my cheeks despite the frigid air pouring through the doorway. My brain went briefly offline.
I spied something bulky tucked inside his coat. His prop, probably.
"Special delivery here." He shifted his weight, and I heard a soft whimper from inside his jacket. "I'm looking for Pine Ridge Road, but I got turned around and my GPS died. Do you know—"
"Listen." My cheeks burned. "I know you have a job to do, and I'm sure you're very good at it, but I'm not in the mood for... whatever this is."
His eyebrows drew together. "My job?"
"The dancing. The..." I gestured vaguely at him. "You know."
"I'm not—"
A high-pitched whimper cut him off.
The lump in his coat squirmed. He grabbed at it with one gloved hand, but it kept moving, and then a golden head poked out from between the snaps.
A puppy.
An actual, real, very much alive puppy.
With a red bow tied around her neck, crooked and half-undone.
"Oh my god." I stepped closer. "Is that a real puppy?"
"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you. She's going hypothermic and I'm lost and I—"
