AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She didn’t push him to finish that sentence. “Then you know.”
“I also... miss my family.” He had finished his aborted thought, after all, and she sensed that he wasn’t the kind of person who usually said things like that, much less to complete strangers. Well, good. They were even. Perhaps they could chalk up this interlude of disarming intimacy to the cozy setting. The gently falling snow, the fire, the outdoor meal—all these things conspired to make it feel as though reality was on pause.
“You don’t see your family often?” she asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, wanting, strangely, to hear more real things about his life.
“My job keeps me rather busy, especially this time of year.”
She understood. This was the part of the conversation where most people would spout some platitude about the importance of family. But she wasn’t that kind of person, and she somehow knew Mr. Benz wasn’t, either. She turned her attention to her food, slicing off a bit of sausage. As she lifted her first forkful, it steamed in the cold air. Her mouth literally watered as she took her first bite. “This issogood. I think the cold makes the food taste better. Is that possible?”
He smiled. “I think it is.”
When they were done eating, Mr. Benz took their dishes back to the counter. Cara didn’t want to leave. Somehow, the alfresco winter dining had unwound her. She felt as relaxed as she could remember being in a long time, like something that was usually taking up all the space in her chest—was it worry? She wasn’t sure—had dissipated. She was pretty sure it would be back,though, whatever it was, when real life resumed. Reluctantly, she retied her scarf, which she’d loosened as the fire had heated them up, preparing for the trek back to the car. But when Mr. Benz came back, he said, “Shall we sit a few moments longer?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
The smile he flashed her almost seemed fond. This time, when he sat, he left very little space between them. They didn’t speak as they stared at the fire. The dancing flames were mesmerizing. She sighed, letting the smoky, piney air permeate her lungs. Though maybe that pine was him. He was awfully close. She yawned. Her eyelids were so heavy. If only there were a way to have a wee nap.
Well, damn: she had a wee nap. She assumed. Because the next thing she knew, she was snorting herself awake only to realize that she was cuddled up to Mr. Benz.
Dear god. She started to sit up, to issue apologies. He shushed her, placing his finger against her lips. It was cold, and her lips were warm.
“Truce,” he whispered. And then he kissed her.
And then he kissed her.
Sort of.
Well, he did. His lips touched hers.
But only for a second, and only with the lightest of touches. It was as if they were connected by breath more than by flesh. It wasn’t a sexy kiss. Per se.
Or it wasn’tmeantto be a sexy kiss, she didn’t think. It did, however, wake her the hell up. Every cell in her body started buzzing, with alarm or delight, she couldn’t tell which—maybe both. But the shape of the kiss, its design, wasn’t sexy. It was probably some chaste Eldovian tradition that the Danes would have a wordfor. Kissing your comrade after a day spent outside. Hail fellow, well met: that sort of thing.
She had no idea what to say, so she experimented with not saying anything. She turned back to the fire and tried to feel if the lump in her chest was still gone. It was.
Eventually, he said, “We should go back.”
“To Witten, you mean?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking. Of course that was what he meant.
He looked at her quizzically. “Yes. Unless you have anywhere else you need to be?”
The lump returned. She didn’t want to go back to the way they’d been before, to the antagonism and sniping. “No,” she said quietly. “Let’s go back.”
At the car, Matteo popped the trunk to extract a blanket for Ms. Delaney, who he reasoned must be cold. The fire had staved off the worst of it, but they’d been outside for nearly two hours, and even he was starting to feel it. He paused, though, hidden by the raised trunk, and asked himself what in god’s name he was doing.
He hadkissedMs. Delaney.
He had no way to explain it, except that he had felt, for a moment there, like he was out of time. Not out of time in the sense of being up against a timer, but outside the normal time-space continuum. Far from the palace, far from his Santa duties. The whole evening—the truce, the snow, the fires, the companionship—had felt like being inside one of Kai’s snow globes. The world had shrunk to a cozily manageable size.
When she fell asleep and listed toward him, ending up snuggledagainst his side, he’d let it be, reasoning that she was asleep and would never know. And it felt good, to prop someone up, to stand guard while they rested. He had seen a different side of Ms. Delaney, when she’d told him more about her life, her parents. He saw the person inside the corporate goth, and that person was tired. He thought perhaps he could tell that in a like-recognizing-like sort of way. And if she was able to set her burdens down, even for a moment, he was all for it.
And then she’d awakened, and he’d been treated to a slideshow of facial expressions. The first had been, he dared say, contentment. She’d looked at him like it was normal to wake up from sleeping against his shoulder, like she washappyto be doing so. Astonishing. Next up had been befuddlement. Reality setting in. He knew the feeling. He could tell when she had collected enough information to be horrified, and that she was ramping up to apologize. The idea that she would apologize for falling asleep, for letting her guard down, felt sowrong.
He’d wanted to stay in the snow globe.
So he’d kissed her?
It made no sense.
