“Warm enough?” he asked her.

“Plenty, thanks.”

“So, here’s my idea for the project. We’re going to string lights all over that big evergreen over there. The one standing all by itself.” He pointed out the tree in the middle of the clearing.

“I like it. There’s electricity?”

“Yes. In the summer, there are lights for the sports court. There’s an outlet at the base of the tree.”

“Cool.”

“Thought I’d surprise the kids. We could tell them it’s Santa’s landing strip.”

“What else would it be?”

They crossed the meadow, making plate-sized tracks across the powder. Logan left his snowshoes at the base of the tree. “Did you bring a ladder?” Darcy asked. “This thing is, like, twenty feet tall.”

“I can climb it.”

“You’re not serious.”

He grinned, unzipping his backpack, and donned a headlamp. “Watch me.”

“You are serious. Also crazy.”

“The good kind of crazy. I’ll climb up and string the lights on the way down. You stand by and keep things untangled and shine the light.”

He cleared the lower branches with ease. The upper ones were closer together, bowing with his weight. “Do me a favor and don’t fall,” she said.

“Not planning on it. Although there’s so much new snow, it would be a soft landing.”

She positioned herself beneath him, aiming the flashlight beam at the top. He disturbed a snow-laden branch, creating an avalanche that fell on her before she could move out of the way.

“Lovely,” she said, rubbing the fresh snow out of her face.

“Sorry,” he replied. “Almost there.” He climbed until the branches thinned, and reached up to clip the light string close to the top. Then he began his descent, paying out the string of lights from his backpack. “This is what’s known as extreme decorating.”

“I must say, stringing lights on a tree in the wilderness was not the first thing I thought of when you invited me for a walk.”

“You don’t mind.” It wasn’t a question.

“You barely know me. How do you know whether or not I mind?”

“Another one of my superpowers.” He worked methodically while she held the beam steady, lighting the way for him. At one point, he went too far out on a limb and it bowed ominously. “Watch it,” she said. “That one won’t hold you.”

There was a loud cracking sound, and he came down like a sack of coal. Her heart leaped to her throat. “Oh my gosh, Logan.” She waded through the snow and dropped to her knees beside him. “Are you okay?”

He was practically drowned in the deep snow of the tree well. She could tell he was assessing himself—back, neck, extremities.

“Not a scratch,” he informed her, lifting his head. “Superpowers did the trick.”

She rose from her knees and held out her hand. “I think there are enough lights on the tree. Let’s plug them in and see if they work.”

“Sure, they work. I tested them before we came out.” He took her hand, but his weight and the soft deep snow unbalanced her, and she fell forward against him, the snow caving in around them.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Damn. This is not going well.”

She climbed out of the hole and fetched his snowshoes so he could do the same. If not for the tight cuffs of her sleeves and the muffler around her neck, she would be extremely uncomfortable at this moment.

He found the end of the light string amid the lower branches. “You all right?” he asked as he worked.

“I’ve survived worse in the snow.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it one day.” He worked quickly, brushing the snow away from a pipe running up the tree trunk with an outlet at the top. “All right. Ready for the lighting?”

“Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”

“You’ve earned it, putting up with my antics.”

“Is that what these are?” she asked. “Antics?”

“I’m good at antics. I excel at antics.”

“Okay, I’m connecting the power,” she said. She plugged it in and the tree came to life with color. “Success,” she exclaimed.

“Hey, how about that?” In the glow of the lights, he looked boyish and wildly attractive. She wished he would tackle her in the snow right now and cover her face with kisses, but he kept his distance. “Glad it worked. Otherwise I risked life and limb for nothing.”

“It’s been a productive evening,” she said, “but I think I need to drink some more.”

“Let’s go back to the house. I’ll make you more of my famous hot chocolate.”

“I was talking about a grown-up drink.”

“I can put a shot of peppermint schnapps in it.”

“Now you’re talking.”

They crossed the clearing and turned back to admire the tree. It was a winter masterpiece, the lights shimmering through the falling snow.

“It looks like Christmas,” she said. “Exactly like a child’s dream of Christmas. Good job, Logan.”

“Now Santa knows where to land. Let’s head back.” In a movement that seemed unstudied and natural, he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her along the path they’d made.

His touch felt good. Too good. She stopped and turned to him. “So, about that text you sent me. She’s not your girlfriend.”

He hesitated. “Maya, you mean.”

“Yes.” She hated herself for being the first to bring it up, but she had to know.

“Yeah, I need to explain about her,” he stated. “Like I said, we’re not... It’s like I said in the text.”

Oh boy. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. If he was involved with someone, then she had no dilemma. But if he was available, she would have to admit she was attracted to him. That she wanted to know more about him. That she liked it when he touched her. That she thought about his kiss all the time. That even after the misery of her divorce, she wanted to fall in love again.

A long silence stretched out. It was so quiet she could hear individual snowflakes ever so gently striking the fabric of her parka.

“And the text you sent me?” he prompted. “Does it mean you’re seeing someone?”

She studied his face, painted in shadows and in the glow from the tree. “I’m seeing you,” she whispered, brushing back her hood and looking up at him.

“And I guess I’m seeing you.”

“What are we doing, Logan?”

“Getting to know each other.”

“Fair enough.” A part of her wanted to stay right here in this winter glade with him, kissing him, warming their lips and their bodies together. She forced herself to take a step back. “Let’s go inside. You promised me a hot chocolate.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

They made their way back to the house and took off their snowshoes, jackets and boots. Logan added a couple of logs to the fire and warmed up the hot chocolate. She stood at the window, cupping her hands on the glass to admire the newly lit tree outside. She felt in that moment that life was fresh and new. Coming here was a good idea. Good for her. But was it good for her family? She kept catching herself wondering what her sisters were doing now. Did they miss her? What were they saying about her?

“What are you thinking about?”

“My family.”

“Ah. Families.” His tone conveyed a deep understanding of the concept. He carefully poured the cocoa into mugs and, true to his word, added a shot of schnapps to hers. “Are you in trouble for ditching them at Christmas?”

“A bit. They’ll get over it. It was one thing for me to ditch them at Thanksgiving,” she said. “That’s a low-stakes holiday. But Christmas is a different story.”

“Come here. Have a seat by the fire.” They settled into a big cushy Chesterfield sofa with a deep seat and rolled armrests. In front of them, the logs crackled and glowed.

She sank gratefully into its comfort, and he handed her a warm mug.

“Cheers,” he said, touching the rim of his cup to hers. “Taste it. You’re going to love it so much you’ll never let me go.”

“You are never serious,” she said, though she felt an undeniable thrill at his words. The chocolate was warm and creamy and rich, with just a touch of peppermint. “You’re right,” she said, savoring the deliciousness. “I want to keep you forever.”

“You’re never serious, either,” he said. “I like that about you.”

She took another sip. “I tried serious. It didn’t work out so well for me.”

“Tell me about your family. What are you missing out on? What did my sister pull you away from?”

“I’m going to miss being present for my sister Lydia’s big announcement. She’s the first Fitzgerald girl to be expecting a baby.”

“Sounds like you already know about the announcement. Congrats to your sister, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what else will you miss?”

“A generation of tradition. But after my divorce, those traditions didn’t really work so well for me. In a nutshell, my parents and the parents of my ex are best friends.”

“Yeah, but blood is thicker than water.”

“It gets complicated. My parents and the Collinses considered it one of the great achievements of their life that the two Collins boys married two of the Fitzgerald girls—me and Huntley, and Lydia and Badgley. The marriages were meant to knit our clans together forever.”

“And then you and Huntley split up.”

“Yes.”

“He cheated?”

She did a double take. “How did you know?”

“A hunch,” he said. “It’s always my first guess. Here’s another guess—you didn’t tell your family about the cheating.”

“And how did you know that?”

“Because if you told them, it’d be the end of your knit-together Christmases.”