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He would be driving the sleigh…sitting beside me.
“I hope this one is okay. The other one needed some repairs before they take it up the mountain tomorrow night.”
Without waiting for a reply, Boone climbed up onto the sleigh and settled in, gathering the reins in both of his hands. The horse shuffled the snow with her hooves.
I wasn’t sure why, but I felt suddenly shy. I hesitated at the prospect of sharing the cramped bench with him. This was intimate. Cozy and private and so muchcloserto him than I expected to be.
If anything, I’d thinkhewould be the one who had a problem with buddying up in the sleigh with me. Considering the way our handful of interactions had gone, I would have thought he hated me.
“Are you coming?” he asked.
It was now or never. And never wasn’t an option, not after all I’d gone through to get here.
Chewing my lip, I climbed onto the sleigh’s metal frame. Cold bit through my thin gloves. My knee brushed against his as I took the flannel-lined bench beside him, but the fabric was cold there, too.
Everything was cold—except for the flames blushing in my cheeks.
Could he see? Was I bright red?
“Here,” Boone said, shaking out a woolen blanket similar to the one covering his lap.
The fabric was just large enough to place over my legs and tuck in around me. Inadvertently, I bumped my elbow against his arm. It wasn’t like I could help it. Sitting here in this tiny sleigh with him was like being wedged in a closet with him.
And then that brought all kinds of heated images with it. Like what it would be like to find myself lodged in a tiny space with nowhere to go but closer to Boone Harper. Where his hands would brush my arms and finally settle around me. Where our eyes would connect and our lips…
Whoa.
We aren’t thinking about lips here, Grace,I reprimanded myself. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
No matter how soft his looked.
“Sorry,” I mumbled a little too late.
Boone cleared his throat and kept his gaze facing forward while I settled myself and placed my bag at my feet.
We sat side by side long enough without moving that I began to wonder if everything was okay. Was something wrong?
I turned slightly to ask when Boone faced me at the same time. Our knees touched, sending a jolt of electricity all the way up from my knees to my spine. My stomach swirled, and heat spread across my skin, heating me inside of my puffy red coat.
Boone cleared his throat and mumbled something.
“What was that?” I said.
He gripped the reins, staring at his hands and then seemed to make a decision. He reached for something inside of his coat pocket and removed a small box wrapped in red paper and topped with a green bow.
It was like the sight of that little box was a whipcrack, and the horse harnessed to my heart took off, sending my pulse racing through my veins.
He got me…a present?
“Before we head out, I owe you an apology,” he said, offering the box to me.
He did. He got me a present.
I dipped my head, unsure of how to act in this moment.
“No, it’s okay,” I began, but he continued. He took my hand in his gloved one and placed the little box on my palm.
Every touch, every motion seemed to take place with special effects. If this were a scene in a movie, the camera would zoom on our faces, on the sincere, ruggedly kind expression I never thought I’d see Boone wear.
