Whatever. He liked it. He liked her, and like she’d said…
Safe enough.
Or not, with her standing at the door in the soft glow of the light, snowflakes on her lashes. “What’s going on?”
“Can I come in?”
“Of course!” He stepped back and grabbed a blanket off his sofa, wrapped it around her. She was still shivering, and shoot, he couldn’t stop himself.
He pulled her into his embrace.
And that’s when, oh no, she started crying. Again.
“Stella?”
“It was terrible. My mom wanted to do an early gift exchange, but the tags got lost and…” She leaned back, her hands over her eyes. “The gift to my father was supposed to be private, but it got opened in front of me by mistake.”
“So, what? You saw his Christmas elf tie?”
“No. It was—” She lowered her hands. “Never mind. It was the aftermath that matters. It’s not pretty over there, and I’m horrified and…wow, that smells good.”
“It’s soup. Want some?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He fixed her a bowl while she hung up her jacket, rewrapped the blanket over her shoulders, then slid into a chair at the table. He brought the bowl over, along with one for himself. “It’s getting nasty out there.”
She looked up at him. “What if they’re getting a divorce?”
Oh. He’d meant the weather. But, “I dunno. I guess you’ll just…adapt?”
She nodded, her eyes filling again. “I’m not great at that. Musician. We follow the rules.”
He dipped his spoon in, stirred. Heat rose from the surface. “Adapting is the one thing I’m good at. Improvising.” He took a bite. Made a humming sound. “I never knew where we’d be, really—what school, what apartment. I was in and out of foster care for a lot of my life.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I don’t know. I met some great people. Sure, there were a few homes that were too noisy, too unsafe, but mostly, the people tried to minister to me. I started to realize that maybe I didn’t have to worry about where I would land. And then the Christiansens took me in. My mother went to treatment over Christmas, and it was while I was here that I sort of realized that God had me in His hand, even when life felt out of control. I might not be able to trust anyone else, but I knew that somehow, I could trust God. And with Him, I was safe.”
He’d never really told anyone that before, and now felt a little naked as Stella looked at him. Then she smiled, nodded. “You’re amazing, Romeo.”
Aw. Now he couldn’t look at her.
“Maybe that’s my problem. All my life, my faith has been in my plan. And now, I’m not sure what the plan is,” Stella said softly
“Maybe you don’t have to figure it out. Maybe God does the figuring out for you.”
She stared at him, nodding.
In his back pocket, his phone buzzed. He fished it out. “It’s a text from Sammy. I gotta go down to the city garage.”
“Can I go?”
Oh, how he wanted to say yes, but…technically, “I don’t think so. There’s insurance issues and…and I think maybe it’s not…”
He could see himself driving off the snowy road, and suddenly Disco was back in his head. “You can stay here if you want. I’ll be back in the morning.” He grabbed his jacket, sliding into his thick, warm Sorels by the door. “Keep an eye on the fire, okay?”
“I promise not to burn the house down.” Then she got up and walked him to the door. “Be safe.”
He pulled on his hat, his jacket, held his gloves and—
Okay, fine. He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted of the soup, and in her touch, the way she wove her hand behind his neck, a little of homecoming.
As if this was right. Easy. And that coming home to her was right where he belonged.
He broke away, the taste of her on his lips. Oh, he wanted more. Instead, “See ya.”
“Don’t run anyone into the ditch.”
He laughed as he left, dangerously close to happy as the snow sifted from the sky.
FRIDAY, 7:00 A.M.
She probably shouldn’t have slept so hard, but frankly, being wrapped in Romeo’s blanket felt so…perfect. Cozy. And here, she didn’t have to make any decisions, let anyone down, face her non-existent life plans.
Call it denial. Call it a holiday.
Call it a mad holiday romance.
Although, it felt just a little out-of-bounds to have spent the night in Romeo’s cabin, even though he wasn’t here. She’d meant to return home, but the wind had simply kept howling, and she’d been so tired and…
She just couldn’t face the idea that her news about Vienna might actually make whatever was going down in the cabin worse.
She couldn’t be the reason her parents split up.
Which sounded crazy, because they were in the ministry. Except it happened all the time.
Maybe Romeo was right. Nothing, and no one, was safe. I might not be able to trust anyone else, but I knew that somehow, I could trust God. And with Him, I was safe.
Okay, no one but God.
And maybe Romeo. How crazy could it be that she’d found a man of honor, of faith—a good-looking man, at that—here in her wonderland getaway?
But maybe that’s why God brought her here. A light in the midnight of her soul.
Okay, she was being dramatic.
Stella pushed up, aware of the sun just barely pressing against the windows. Poor Romeo—he was probably still out in that.
Or not. She found a note on the counter, along with fresh coffee in the pot—how had she slept through that? He was out chopping wood.
She opened the fridge and found a dozen eggs and some bacon, dug out a pan and made breakfast. Then she poured coffee and carried it outside.
The dawn had cleared the tree line, rose-gold icing the lake, and the sound of wood cracking split the air. She stopped for a moment, admiring Romeo’s form—burly shoulders, strong legs, his feet set as he brought down the ax. She could see the fireman in him.
He looked up. Smiled.
Yes, little fires everywhere.
“Hey,” he said.
“You know, there are machines that will chop your wood for you.”
He took the coffee she offered. “It helps me think.”
She shivered as the wind skimmed snow from the trees. “About what?”
He considered her a long moment, then sipped his coffee. “I have to go to Wilder House and check on it for the rehearsal dinner—”
“Yes. I’ll go change. Breakfast is ready.”
He gave her a strange smile as she darted off to her cabin.
The place was quiet, the door to her parents’ room closed. She changed, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back, shrugged away any idea of makeup, and was out before she heard noises.
Romeo was finishing his breakfast when she knocked.
“I saved you some eggs.”
Sweet. She took the proffered plate and sat at the table to eat. “I’ll bet you’re tired.”
“I slept a bit at the garage before getting up again for an early morning sweep.” He drained his coffee and set it, along with her finished plate, on the board.