Chapter 14
Penn
“First things first,” Jaylynn says, clapping her hands. “We should get a fire going and find some blankets.”
I shake my head so fast it probably looks like I’m trying to rattle my brain loose. “I am not going back down in that basement.”
Her lips twitch, and then she laughs at the sheer terror written all over my face.
“Yeah, me neither. Not unless you want to re-enact every horror movie ever made. But…” she taps her chin thoughtfully.
“I bet we can find some stuff by the stage. Costumes, blankets, who knows. And if all else fails, we’ve got those big ugly Christmas sweaters in the car.
” She folds her arms and rubs them like she’s already half-frozen.
“Honestly, I’d like to ditch this coat and get a little more comfortable. ”
I nod toward the large fireplace. “Maybe we should light the fire downstairs instead. A little less flammable than a room full of books, don’t you think? What genius thought a fireplace in a library was a good idea?”
“Right?” Her eyes go wide in mock horror. “Can you imagine if I burned down a library? #GobbleGate would be old news. Everyone would be talking about #FictionFriction.”
“Or #HotOffThePress.”
She gasps, then collapses into a fit of laughter, bending at the waist. “#Overdue inferno!” she manages between giggles. “Get it? Like overdue books but—” She snorts. “On fire. Oh my god, I kill myself.”
“Nothing wrong with being your own biggest fan.” I bump her shoulder with mine, grinning. “Although, for the record, I’m a fan too.”
That earns me a smile that feels like its own brand of heat.
“Oh! How about #ShelfDestruct?” I add. “You know. Libraries have shelves, and they destruct in fires.”
She narrows her eyes, suspicious. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Nope.” I widen my eyes, all innocence.
“Uh-huh. Well, for the record, I love #ShelfDestruct. But I’m calling dibs on #LibraryLit.”
We laugh until my stomach aches, both of us sounding like kids who forgot the world outside exists.
The laughter fades slowly, leaving that hushed, warm afterglow that makes my heart pound a little harder than it should.
I slide closer, slip my arms around her, and pull her against my chest. She fits there too well.
“How about,” I murmur against her hair, “We avoid making any of those headlines and light the fire in the foyer instead. Pretty sure I spotted a kitchen down there, too.” I rub my stomach dramatically. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” she says, leaning into me like she belongs there. “Maybe we’ll find some canned goods or something frozen.”
“There were big, squishy couches down there. Perfect spot to crash later.”
Her face lights up. “And, I have my iPad in the car. I keep my agenda on it, but…” Her lips twitch with mischief. “I may or may not have some Christmas movies downloaded.”
“Die Hard.”
She jerks back, scandalized. “Oh my god. You’re not one of them.”
“One of what?”
“The guys who think Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”
“Isn’t it?”
She lets out a scandalized huff so over-the-top it makes me laugh. Could this woman be any more adorable? “I should’ve asked more questions before I agreed to marry you.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure you asked me.”
She flings her hand in the air, all dramatic indignation. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I can’t marry a monster, Penn.”
“Fine, fine,” I surrender with both hands raised. “Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”
She squints at me, then smirks. “Wow, that was easy.”
“Does that mean the engagement is back on?”
“It is.” She rises on her toes and presses her mouth to mine, soft and sweet and so much more dangerous than a fire in a library.
When she pulls back, her breath fans against my lips.
“Although,” I murmur, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, “If I were a monster—like in Beauty and the Beast—I’d build you a library like this one.”
Her eyes soften, her smile curving slow and sure. “Careful, Penn, tempt me with a library and you just might make me fall for you.”
The words land square in my chest, and for a second, my heartbeat is way too loud in my ears.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, hiding the grin that threatens to give me away.
“How about you think on the merits of Die Hard while we head downstairs and see how much wood we’ve got. Then I’ll go get the iPad.”
We step back into the hall, our footsteps echoing off the old walls as we take the creaky staircase to the main level.
The stone fireplace looms over us like it’s been waiting for us all along.
I crouch, flip open the wooden box at its side, and grin.
“Looks good. Dry. Plenty of kindling and hardwood.” I glance at her over my shoulder.
“Why don’t you find us some paper? Probably behind the desk. ”
She salutes and heads off, her hips swaying in a way that makes concentrating on firewood way more difficult than it should be. By the time she returns, triumphantly holding up an armful of paper, I’ve built a little log pyramid on the grate.
“Perfect.” I stand and point. “Crumple some up and stuff it in the gaps I left.”
She arches a brow at me. “Didn’t know you were a boy scout.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I say, giving her backside a playful swat. “Play your cards right tonight and maybe you’ll learn something.”
She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “I saw a deck in the boardroom.”
I grin. “Strip poker?”
“Sure. But after a movie, getting me out of my clothes was a given anyway.”
A low growl rumbles out of me before I can stop it, and I steal a quick kiss, hot, messy, not nearly enough, before forcing myself to pull away and head for the doors.
“I only said that so you’d stay warm going back out there!” she calls after me.
“Thoughtful,” I toss back, grinning. “It’s going to be much easier to melt a path to the car.”
Her laugh chases me outside, wrapping tighter than my coat as the wind whips and snowflakes sting my face.
The car’s buried under six inches, but I scrape at it until I can wrench the handle open.
In the dim glow, I dig around, finding the bag with the sweaters and her beast of a tote from the front seat.
It weighs at least ten pounds. What the hell does she carry in this thing, bricks?
But I sling it over my shoulder and trudge back, snow clinging to me like a second skin.
The second I step back inside and lock the door, Jaylynn looks up. Her whole face lights, and that smile… damn. It’s not just happy. It’s like she’s relieved, like she’s glad I came back at all. It hits me dead center in the chest, a warmth that burns hotter than the fire will.
“Find everything?” she asks, still smiling.
“Yup.” I shake snow off the bags and hurry to her side.
I grab the long matches from the mantel, strike one, and touch it to the paper.
Flames lick to life, crackling bright and hungry.
The dry wood catches quickly, filling the room with the sharp, sweet scent of smoke and the kind of heat you can lean into.
I shrug out of my damp coat and drape it over a chair, then drop down beside her. She’s cross-legged on a thick mat, her hands stretched toward the blaze, palms open to soak in the warmth.
For a while we don’t say anything, just sit shoulder to shoulder, listening to the wood pop and watching shadows flicker across the old stone. The silence feels easy; we feel like we belong.
“This is nice,” she finally says, voice quiet.
“It is nice,” I echo, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
Her gaze drifts over, soft and steady. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be snowed in with.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I lean closer, slow enough to give her every chance to stop me, and brush my lips over hers. Just a whisper of a kiss, unhurried, unashamed. A promise of all the hours we have stretched before us, uninterrupted.
Except, of course, my stomach decides to ruin the moment.
It growls loud enough to echo. She jerks back and laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my god. Penn, you’re ridiculous. Come on, let’s go find some food.”
Groaning, I push to my feet and offer her a hand. She slips hers into mine, warm and small, and lets me pull her up. The second she’s standing, she waves her hand in front of her face. “Wow, it got hot in here fast.”
“Come here.” I tug her closer, unzip her coat, and slide it from her shoulders. I drape it over the chair beside mine, then dig into the bag for her ugly sweater. She pulls it over her head, her hair puffing up wildly with static.
I laugh, reaching out to smooth it back down. The second my fingers touch, a zap cracks between us. She yelps, I curse, and then we’re both laughing so hard the fire crackles in sympathy.
And just like that, the whole world outside disappears.
I yank my hand back and shake it out dramatically. “Jesus, I knew there were sparks between us, but come on.”
Jaylynn throws her head back, laughing, before fishing in the bag and pulling out one of the two sweaters she’d picked for me. “I want you to wear this one.”
I eye it with suspicion. “Of course, you do.”
Still, I tug it on, the wool scratchy and ridiculous, and she immediately bursts into laughter, doubling over as she reads it out loud.
“Deck the halls? Nah, deck my lap with dances.”
I look down at the bold red letters stretched across my chest. “What does that even mean? Doesn’t deck mean decorate? How exactly do you ‘decorate my lap with dances?’ Because unless this comes with an instruction manual, I’m lost.”
Her grin is wicked as she pokes me in the chest. “Play your cards right tonight and you’ll find out what it means.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say, smoothing the sweater with exaggerated care. “But for the record, I am not wearing this in public. I can’t decide if it’s funny or offensive. What I am sure of is that whoever designed it was in cahoots with the creepy elf.”