Page 111 of The Holiday Makeover

Ugh.

I took my shivering self out into the hall and found the digital thermostat blank. Fantastic. Just what we needed. A power outage and, apparently, a broken generator.

Maybe Tate would know what to do. I mean, he was a handy guy. Oh, his hands. They were magical.

And I had been missing them.

No time to think about that.

Except . . . the thought did warm me.

Maybe I should have been thinking more sultry thoughts. You know, for survival purposes. And because Tate was pretty much all I thought about lately anyway. Especially his keys and wallet and where he had said he wanted to leave them every night.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around myself, I walked to Tate’s door and gently knocked.

“Tate?” I whispered.

When he didn’t answer, I cracked the door open and peeked my head inside. He was sound asleep, the blankets covering only his lower half. The upper half of him was bare.

Very bare.

And beautiful.

Not even the darkness could hide that. How he wasn’t freezing, I had no idea. Maybe unfairly attractive men generated their own heat. It seemed rude, honestly.

But he’d been working hard.

The kitchen was coming together beautifully, and the built-ins were finally taking shape. He never hesitated to help me hang curtains or mirrors or artwork. In fact, he insisted on those last two. His aversion to my adhesive strips was adorable.

All that said, I debated whether to wake him.

He needed his rest.

And I could build a fire.

Or maybe look up a YouTube video on how to repair a generator. Assuming my cell provider’s network was still working. No doubt the Wi-Fi wasn’t.

This was also assuming I could muster up the courage to repair a generator in the middle of a blizzard while wearing Kermit the Frog pajamas.

On second thought, that sounded like a terrible and terrifying idea.

Sleeping by the fire it was.

Or so I thought.

Just as I was about to close the door, Tate’s gravelly voice said, “Rory.”

“Hey, sorry to wake you up. It’s just that the power is off and the backup generator doesn’t seem to be working. And it’s freezing in the house, so I thought maybe you noticed that too, but obviously you didn’t, given that you’re sleeping half naked.” I swallowed. “At least, I think it’s half.”

I rambled nervously, like I hadn’t known this man for most of my life.

Tate chuckled, but he did not confirm his level of nakedness.

Which did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.

“Anyway,” I rushed on, “go back to sleep. I’m going to start a fire like a pioneer woman and sleep downstairs in front of it.”

“Rory,” Tate said, his voice far too alluring, as he crooked a finger for me to come closer. “I’ll keep you warm.”