Page 46 of Mistletoe All the Way

My heart stops, then starts up again in double time. I want to haul her into my arms. To kiss her more deeply. To spread her out on the bed.

But there’s the farm, the animals, my sneaky cousin, my mother’s legacy, my gramps’s kind and naive heart.

Eloise would be a massive distraction, and I’m starting this competition on my heels. “I won’t,” I say, making it crystal clear that the kiss was only for her. But it also needs to be a onetime thing. I gesture to her, then to me. “But this would be a distraction.”

She nods quickly almost too quickly, but it’s good she agrees. “It would be. Highly distracting.”

“Incredibly so.”

“Terribly.”

I have a feeling we could adverb our way to her bed, so I’m half relieved she pumps the brakes this time, saying, “I should go to bed.”

She points to the bed and the pants.

I say good night, do a quick security check of the cabin, making sure everything is locked, then head to my bedroom.

I stop in my tracks as I pass hers.

“Are you kidding me?”

Rusty’s already on the bed with her, on top of the cover, thumping his tail, curled up next to her. From under the duvet, she pets his head.

“I’m a dog magnet,” she says.

And a magnet for me, too, it seems.

“Good night, Eloise,” I say a second time, and I try to strip the wistful tone from my voice. But I don’t know if I’m successful.

“Good night, Noah, and thank you.”

I blow out a breath and leave, shutting the door to my room, then leaning against the wood, like I have to force myself to stay on this side instead of returning to her.

In the morning, the plow trundles down my street at sunrise, I shovel the driveway, and soon enough it’s safe for her to drive again.

I see her off, walking her to her car, then saying an awkward goodbye. Almost as quickly as she arrived, Eloise is gone, driving off into the blindingly bright morning.

I go back inside my home and shut the door.

Rusty whimpers.

I scratch his chin, then change into running gear. “Too cold for you today, buddy,” I tell Rusty, then head out, and peel off several miles in the chilly morning, getting lost in Dying to See You, a new audio drama that dropped last night. When I return, the FBI agent and an amateur sidekick are hot on the trail of the killer. I hit pause, toe off my sneakers, and rub my palms to warm up.

Rusty follows me into the kitchen, where I make a coffee. I’ve got volunteer work today at the rescue, but not till this afternoon. As I drink my coffee, I text screenshots of my mileage and miles per hour to Jamie.

NOAH

Just try to beat my time.

A minute later, my marathon training buddy replies with digital proof he’s faster.

NOAH

Must be all that time you have on your hands as a park ranger.

JAMIE

It’s tough for you that I was a better vet, and now I’m faster.