Toward their path. The little blonde girl and her dad.
Boone must have seen it too, at the same time, as she felt his body tighten.
Their speed ate up the distance between the two sleds.
They were going to crash right into them. She closed her eyes, screamed. Felt Boone’s weight shift hard, his arms locked around her.
“Hold on!” he shouted above the scraping of snow.
They lurched sideways.
The sled tipped and—they were flying.
They landed hard and fast and kept sliding. Without the sled.
Snow pummeled her.
Up her nose. Down her shirt. In her ears.
The screaming didn’t end until she got a mouthful of snow. She coughed.
They finally stopped and she lay broken, rattled, undone, Boone still holding her, his arms and legs tangled in hers.
“Are you okay?” Boone released his armlock, and she felt the weight of him lift away from her.
She rolled onto her back, her breath heaving, the sky a steely gray overhead. She moved her arms, legs.
Everything still worked. At least she wouldn’t be on crutches for the ceremony. Hopefully Zuri could cover up any bruises.
What was she thinking, allowing Boone to take her sledding?
“I just—I want to go. Now.”
Before any real tragedies happened.
WEDNESDAY, 11:30 A.M.
Boone hoped a peppermint mocha IV drip might bring Vivien back to him. He’d take her by Java Cup and maybe ease the tightness in her jaw and the incessant list-checking. He threw the truck into reverse, backed out of the snowy lot, and headed back into town.
She’d hobbled a few steps when they untangled themselves from their snowy crash, and his eardrums hadn’t quite recovered from her screaming.
He’d offered her a hand up, dusted the snow off. “You okay?”
She’d given him a little nod and her voice wavered. “I thought we were going to hit that little girl.”
But it was something more than that, and it nicked his confidence. Added to his sense that she was holding back. And Vivien wasn’t a woman who held back. Right?
He shook it off. Sometimes it was still hard to turn off the investigator in him. Which was utterly silly—this was Vivien. He was ready to marry her. He knew everything he needed to know about her. Didn’t he?
He drove around the corner to find a parking spot, glancing over at her. She stared at her list.
The list.
She’d seemed more rattled than he’d expected as the wedding day approached, and no, that wasn’t just since the storm. She’d been a little exacting over the past couple months.
And there he went again, thinking like a detective instead of a husband. Well, fiancé.
But everyone said jitters were normal for a bride.
He held open the door of Java Cup, allowing a customer to exit before Vivien entered ahead of him.
A four-foot plushy reindeer greeted guests. The shop’s owner, Kathy, was humming “O Holy Night” behind the counter, and the tables were crowded with patrons. Four Dickens carolers were assembling along the far wall.
Not even a snowstorm would keep the inhabitants of the north woods home for long.
When they made it to the front of the line, Kathy paused, her blonde hair pulled back with her signature moose-ear headband. “Well, if it isn’t the happy couple.” She hummed a few more notes of the carol. “Do you want pumpkin spice? Maybe an eggnog latte?” She nodded toward the Dickens carolers. “They’re about to start.”
“I think you’d better give us a couple hot peppermint mochas.”
Vivien placed both hands on the countertop and leaned in. “Please.”
“That bad, huh?” Kathy poured milk and started the steamer. “I’m trying to feel sorry for you, Vivie, but you’re all set to marry a handsome man who’s head over heels about you.” She winked at Boone.
“She has a point,” Boone said, giving Vivien a tentative nudge with his shoulder.
The Dickens carolers started singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.”
Oh, not even a four-part harmony seemed to settle Vivien’s nerves. He studied her, expecting a response to the music. Maybe hoping. She had nary a toe-tap nor a head-bob to spare.
Instead, she looked at Kathy. “This storm has set all our wedding plans into a tailspin. The flowers, the food—I don’t even know if the wedding guests are going to make it. And then—I just almost died sledding on the hill.”
“Well, I’m sure everything will come together one way or another, and you don’t look too worse for the wear. Good thing you’ve got your own rescuer on hand.” Kathy tamped the grounds into the filter basket. “There have been some pretty bad injuries on that hill over the years. In fact—”
Boone sliced his fingertips across his throat in the universal “cut” sign and shook his head. Vivien didn’t need any encouragement to add to the saga.
Vivien stood upright and faced Boone. “I saw that.” She met his look, a challenge lighting her deep blue eyes.
Man, she was pretty. Not just pretty pretty, either. She had the kind of beauty that glowed from the inside out. And in three days, she’d be his wife.
He didn’t even know how the outcast who’d always been trying to prove himself was about to marry the most incredible woman he could have ever imagined.
Boone placed his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “I’m teasing. Are you okay?”
Her shoulders slumped beneath his fingers. “It’s true—I could have broken a bone. Crutches—at my very own wedding. It would’ve been ruined.”
Kathy poured the espresso into the cups and went to work finishing their drinks.
“But you didn’t.” Boone released his hold and enveloped her in his arms. Felt her soften against him. Let the smells of ground beans and fresh pastries mingle with the jasmine in her hair. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to come together.”
“We need to stick to the list.” She tilted her head as she looked up at him, those blue eyes setting him ablaze.
The list. “Okay.”
“Here you are.” Kathy handed off their drinks, and Boone followed Vivie to a table.
She plopped onto a chair and flattened her list out on the pine table. “I just want to pick up my dress. Get things settled. This snowstorm really threw me off.”
They tugged out of their coats. Boone laughed at his ugly sweater.
“I forgot about this.” He hit the button to activate the lights.
She stared at his sweater, arms crossed. “Boone—”
“It’s okay. We’ll get your dress as soon as they open. That’s super easy.” He took a sip of the hot mocha. “And I’ll bet then we can quickly tackle the rest of that list.”
The door opened with a bell jingle, the cool air swirling in. Peter Dahlquist’s big form filled the space, a sprinkle of snowflakes whitening his thick beard. He paused when he spotted them, then walked to their table.
“Hey, Peter,” Vivien said.
“Hi, how’s it going?” He shook Boone’s hand.
They’d had quite a few opportunities to work together, since Peter was fire chief and his fiancée, Ronnie, was a paramedic who split her time between the city and the Crisis Response Team.