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Minnie, ever the aloof queen, watches from the window, her eyes wide with a mix of disdain and curiosity, as if baffled by our chaotic antics. I catch her gaze, feeling a little guilty that she’s stuck inside while we’re out here causing a ruckus.
As we continue to pelt snow at each other, the wet snow begins to seep through my gloves and heavy jacket.
“This is your last chance to surrender!” I shout, grabbing another handful of snow to fashion into a ball for my next attack.
“Never! I shall fight to my last snowball!” Noah’s theatrical response has me giggling as he crouches low behind a mound, clearly plotting, his eyes narrowing with playful determination.
I can feel my cheeks turning a brilliant shade of crimson, and the thrill of the snowball fight suddenly clashes with the realness of the cold. “Okay, okay, I think I’m starting to lose all feeling in my face! Maybe we should take five?” I shout, holding my hands up in surrender, or at least negotiating for some much-needed warmth.
He appears around the corner just then, eyebrows raised and a satisfied smile curling his lips. “Definitely can’t have you freezing.” Noah grins and steps closer, the heat of his presence washing over me and warming my frozen body from the inside out.
The storm finally breaks, releasing its icy hold on the world outside. Each day, the winds calm and the sun punches through, revealing more of the landscape as the snow melts away, transforming the ferocious winter wonderland into a serene, postcard-perfect scene.
Over the past few days, Noah and I have settled into a pretty normal routine. We read, check work emails, and keep the wheels turning on the work bus. We’ve also watched more holiday movies than I thought humanly possible. Plus, our snowball fights have become the stuff of legend. But today feels different.
“You ready to conquer the last of this snow, cowboy?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter with a playful challenge in my tone. The prospect of getting into town bristles with my excitement.
“Are you kidding? I was born ready!” he replies, a wide grin spreading across his face like sunshine after a long winter.
The plan is to make a supply run to the little grocery store in the small town a few miles away. We’re running low on essentials for us, and chicken, eggs, and tuna fish to feed my picky cat. Besides, it seems like a good excuse to take Noah’s trusty rusty, old, four-wheel-drive pickup truck for a spin.
It’s not so much a truck as it is a hunk of metal magically patched together.
After shuffling through the large selection of winter gear, we both emerge into the crisp morning, laughing, wrapped in our several mismatched layers.
As we approach the truck, I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a classic! A real beauty.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” Noah responds with mock seriousness. “She’s reliable. Even with a few character flaws, she’s got spirit!”
When he finally opens the door, a loud creak fills the air. I hop in, sliding into the surprisingly comfortable, well-worn seat.
Noah joins me and turns the key. I’m a little shocked when the engine sputters to life.
“Let’s go, old girl,” Noah mutters to the dashboard, encouraging the truck.
We jolt forward, inching onto the road. The ride through the remnants of snow and melting ice is bumpy, but Noah easily navigates the deserted road.
When we finally arrive in town, Noah parks behind the small grocery store. I’m kind of shocked to see several other cars in the lot. “I can’t believe it’s this busy.”
“I’m pretty sure every resident in town is at the grocery store right now,” Noah jokes as we step inside, the bell above the door ringing softly to announce our arrival.
A sleepy woman behind the counter greets us, her smile wide and warm, the essence of small-town charm. “Welcome in. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Thank you,” I say, grinning at her as I grab a cart, the wheels squeaking like they’ve seen better days.
Noah and I wander through the aisles, grabbing all the essentials we’ll need for the next few days. “Okay. We have bread, eggs, ground meat, chicken, and potato chips, so all the basic food groups are represented,” I tease.
As we approach the pet aisle, Noah suddenly stops, as if struck by divine inspiration. “Hold on a second,” he says, darting down the cat food aisle with purpose. I roll my eyes but follow him, curiosity piqued.
“What's going on?” I ask, watching him scour the shelves like a kid on a treasure hunt.
“I just need to take care of something,” he says and begins to grab several cans of expensive cat food.
“Seriously?” I chuckle, amused as he throws in another can of something that’s labeled like it’s fine dining for felines. “Are we stocking the cat buffet here or what?”
“This is serious business, Scarlett,” he replies with an exaggerated seriousness while tossing in more cans. “If I want to win over Minnie, I’ve got to come armed with the good stuff.”
“Noah Blackwood, you’re trying to bribe my cat,” I tease, stepping back slightly to survey his haul.
