by Zoe Chant
The Puppy Express usually only ran during the day, but Jasper had made a few calls, and they’d agreed to stay open for one last, late-night ride. Abigail actually squealed with delight when she saw the team of huskies harnessed to the sled outside.
The manager strode up, a welcoming smile on his face. “Heartwell, party of two?”
Abigail slid her hand into Jasper’s pocket and squeezed his hand. Warmth glowed inside him.
Jasper nodded to the manager. “Thanks for staying open this late. Is there somewhere my date—” Abigail squeezed his hand tighter, and the glow inside him burned brighter than the blazing fireplace. “— can get changed?”
“Right this way.”
Jasper was tempted to follow Abigail into the changing room, but she fended him off, reminding him that they only had a few hours. So he chatted to the manager and accompanied him outside to pack the sled while his mate dressed herself in the clothes he had bought for her. His third gift to her. And the third gift she had accepted.
A blast of warm air hit his back as the door behind him swung open. He turned to see Abigail outlined by the glow of firelight.
He had been very careful. No Christmas colors, which was a difficult ask in a town like this. Soft pale cream for the warm, windproof jacket with a fur-lined hood, matching pants, a dove-grey hat to match her other accessories, and dark boots lined with thick, warm wool.
She looked magnificent.
Jasper took two long strides, and wrapped his hands around her waist. “Everything fits?”
“Perfectly.” Her cheeks were pink as she pulled up the hood. “I’m impressed. Even I can’t pick out clothes to fit me, half the time.”
“All those hours exploring your body weren’t a waste,” he murmured into her ear, and her cheeks flared from pink to bright, pleased red. She poked him in the chest and he caught her finger to kiss it.
“Hey, lovebirds!” The Puppy Express manager whistled and eight pairs of eyes snapped to him: two humans’, and six dogs’. Jasper laughed and linked his arm with Abigail’s.
“Ready to go on an adventure?”
CHAPTER 9
Abigail
To Abigail’s surprise, the manager handed the reins to Jasper.
“You’re going to drive?”
Jasper raised both eyebrows at her. “Don’t sound so shocked. I have done it before.” His eyebrows knitted together. “Seven… eight years ago?”
“Mountains haven’t changed since then,” the manager said cheerily, slapping Jasper on the shoulder. “Lake’s still in the same place. Caves not moved too much. Couple of trees have fallen down, but there’s always more growing up to take their place.”
Abigail looked from one man to the other. “Have you been here before?”
“I grew up around here.” He moved closer and Abigail breathed him in, sweet and spice over the sharp bite of ice and snow. His mouth quirked. “Maybe if I’d stayed longer, instead of flying off to see the world, this wouldn’t be only our third date.”
Something like fire gleamed in his eye. Abigail glanced over her shoulder. Surely they weren’t close enough to the window for the firelight to be reflecting in his eyes?
She turned back, and Jasper was holding out his hand to her, the other stretched out toward the sled. “My lady?”
Heat unspooled inside her as she took his hand, and he swept her into the sled’s cushioned seat. The night was cold, but her new clothes were warmer than any winter gear she’d ever worn. Or maybe it wasn’t the clothes. Maybe she was just so drunk with happiness that the cold didn’t stand a chance.
Jasper jumped in beside her. She shouldn’t have been able to feel the heat of his body through all the layers they were both wearing, but she thought she could. His knee pressed against hers and she laughed, pure joy bubbling out of her like champagne bubbles.
“It must be eleven by now, at least,” she said, hiccupping back giggles. “And you’re going to take me on a sleigh— sled ride, in the middle of the mountains, in the middle of the night? Should we file the missing person’s report now, to save time in the morning?”
“You wound me,” Jasper declared dryly. He let his head hang back with a sigh. “Very well. I admit it. We’re doing the children’s route— but not because my sixteen-year-old self’s incredible dogsledding skills might be in any way less than magnificent.” He pecked her on the nose. “Because it’s a half-hour loop, and I need to get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.” He flicked the reins. “Hup!”
The dogs stayed where they were.
Abigail bit the inside of her cheek. Jasper glanced sideways at her, his cheeks going pink. “Er… mush?”
A whistle cut through the air, and all the huskies’ ears pricked up. The manager was leaning back against the lodge wall, hands in his pockets. He grinned at Abigail and Jasper, whistled again, and the dogs leapt into action.
Jasper wound his arm around Abigail’s shoulders, groaning. “Do me a favor and pretend that didn’t happen,” he muttered.
“Forget this?” She spread her arms. “Never. I’m going to remember every moment of it.”
The night was dark. Snow-covered trees rising like shadowy giants either side of them, reaching for a star-filled sky. But they weren’t driving into darkness. A lantern at the front of the sled lit the track directly in front of them, and hundreds of lights dangled from the lower branches of the trees, lighting their way through the forest. More lights glowed through the pines, hinting at twists and turns ahead.
The dogs were taking the trail at a placid trot, as though they’d done it a thousand times— Which they probably have, Abigail thought. How long do huskies live? Could these dogs, or their parents, have pulled Jasper around when he came here as a child?
The thought made her feel strange. Like her insides were shivering, half warm, half frozen. The idea of Jasper growing up here, in a town obsessed with Christmas— it felt so right. She’d seen how his eyes shone when he looked at the stupid decorations in the shops, and her ridiculous work uniform, even when she’d been scowling at them. He’d paraded around in that awful sweater like it was the Emperor’s New Clothes.
And yet he’d gone such incredible lengths to keep their dates Christmas-free once he saw how much the holiday bothered her.
He was so full of warmth and kindness. A real, genuine good person.
Too good for you. Her stomach twisted.
Beside her, Jasper huffed. “I’d like to pretend that I’m steering, but… I think the dogs are on autopilot.” He sighed and dropped the reins in his lap. “Well. This is less impressive than I intended.”
“Is it like you remember?”
His eyes softened as he hugged her closer. “Better. And the less attention I have to keep on the track, the more attention I can give you…”
He tipped her head back and kissed her, and the cold shivery feeling in her stomach melted away.
The huskies knew the route like the back of their paws. Twenty minutes later, they pulled to the side of the track and came to a stop beside a frozen lake that looked like something…
Like something off of a Christmas card, Abigail thought, and a knot formed in her chest. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back to relax herself. Her breath billowed out in front of her.
She would not ruin this. Not like last night, with the ice-skating carolers.
The air was crisp, without a trace of a breeze. The scene looked like someone had hit pause on the world: snow clung to black pine branches, ice stretched out over the lake. Abigail felt like she, Jasper and the dogs might be the only living things there; it was like they had stepped into another world, silent and serene and coldly beautiful.
The only movement was the heaving of the huskies’ sides as they sat down in the snow, their breath forming clouds of vapor over their heads… and Jasper and her. Her lips were still tingling from his kisses.
He slipped his hand into hers. “Come on,” he said. “I think our escort is suggesting we
get out and stretch our legs.”
Icy snow crunched under her boots as she stepped off the sled. The smell of pine filled her nose and she closed her eyes, drinking the world in through her other senses. She could almost taste the cold, all snow and ice and sharp pine, and—
A spicy sweetness that made her legs go weak. She leaned backwards, knowing Jasper was right behind her. His arms snuck around her, his lips nuzzling past her hood to brush against her neck. God, she loved how he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
Maybe she’d been wrong, all these years, with her Christmas System. Falling into bed with someone was far more fun than working herself to exhaustion and hiding away…
No. Her stomach turned. Falling into bed with Jasper, that was one thing. But the thought of doing this with anyone else just felt wrong.
“What do you think?” Jasper murmured, nipping at her ear.
“What do I think?” She looked around. There was a small picnic area by the edge of the lake, a few low log seats around a blackened fire pit. Lights glittered on the trees like stars come down to rest. “I think it’s beautiful. And that you probably brought every girl in town here, back when you were a sixteen-year-old dogsledder extraordinaire.”
“Never!” Jasper spun her around. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here,” he insisted, honesty radiating from his every pore.
Abigail stared hard at him. He stared back, all wounded innocence.
“Huh,” she said at last, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Would that be because this is the kids’ circuit, and usually it’s chock-a-block with adorable, screaming children?”
“Ah, you got me.” He groaned and leaned forward until his forehead tapped against hers. “Foiled again.”
Abigail giggled, and then breathed in deep, inhaling his enticing, spicy scent and trying not to think too hard about the idea of Jasper taking other women on dates like this. Everything they’d done was so new for her, so spontaneous and joyful. She knew it was stupid to feel jealous over the idea of anyone else having these experiences with Jasper… but she couldn’t help it. The only option was to ignore it.
“I wasn’t lying, though.” His fingers wounds around hers, and his breath whispered in her ear. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever taken out here, kids’ circuit or anywhere else. I wanted to do something special, just for you. Just for us.” He kissed her and then darted away, graceful as a cat. He called back over his shoulder: “And that includes dinner!”
Abigail stared after him, head spinning. He— something special? This is something special?
It had always been special for her, of course: an unexpected, wonderful spark of light in the middle of the most miserable time of the year. But Jasper was, well, Jasper. He was good-looking, a charmer, and— her hands clenched inside her new designer gloves— obviously wealthy. He could have any woman he wanted, surely.
But he’d gone for her. Something special, just for us.
She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice. A fun fling, that was one thing. But something special? That was dangerous. Could she risk letting herself fall?
Especially at this time of year?
Jasper was untying something from the back of the sled. Abigail watched him, waiting for— For what? For a host of angels to descend from the sky, slap you upside the head, and tell you what to do with your life?
You’ve never had a single relationship that you haven’t screwed up, one way or another. There’s no way this one is going to go any better. Maybe I should just… enjoy it while I can.
Jasper glanced up at her and she looked away quickly, her cheeks burning. If he knew she’d been ogling him—
Then what? What’s the worst that could happen? Not in a few days’ time, not weeks or months from now. What’s the worst that could happen, right now, from the hot guy who clearly likes you back knowing you enjoy looking at him?
Abigail took a deep breath and looked back at Jasper. His eyes were still on her, and when he met her gaze, fire seemed to kindle in their warm brown depths. His mouth opened slightly and the memory of his kisses was so strong Abigail could almost feel them on her lips. She lifted one gloved hand and touched her mouth, gently.
You’re worried about falling? It’s too late for that. You’ve already careened straight off that cliff.
Her gaze shifted sideways, past Jasper. She didn’t want him to see the trepidation in her eyes.
Something behind him caught her attention. A distraction. Thank God.
“What’s that?”
Jasper frowned slightly, and then followed her pointing finger to the small post-box nestled under a tree at the side of the track. The dogs had stopped the sled right beside it, and the only reason Abigail hadn’t seen it before was because she’d gotten out on the lake side, and been distracted by the view.
“There can’t seriously be postal service out— oh.” Abigail hit herself on the forehead as realization dawned. “I get it. Puppy Express. Like the Pony Express?” She walked over to the mailbox. There was a smaller wooden crate to one side, its waterproof lid weighted down with a large stone.
“Exactly right. But— and this is the most important part of the business model, I’m given to understand— literally ten thousand times cuter. I’m informed they measured that scientifically.” Jasper came up and put his arm around her waist. He nodded at the smaller crate. “Postcards come free with the ride, and the manager will have them sent anywhere in town within a few days. I think he makes his staff drop them off on the way to work in the mornings. Which is a bit trickier for the ones addressed to the North Pole.”
Abigail glanced sideways at Jasper. His eyes were lit up— the same way they did whenever he saw, talked about, or probably even thought about Christmas things. Hell, he probably had that hideous sweater with the dancing trees on under his gorgeous woolen jacket.
Abigail rocked back and forwards, her feet crunching in the snow. Then, before she could change her mind, she stepped forward and grabbed the rock off the crate, flipping back the lid. The box was piled high with stacks of postcards, carefully wrapped in waterproof plastic.
“Do you have a pen?” she asked Jasper, looking back at him over her shoulder. “And— what’s your address in Pine Valley?”
His eyebrows knitted together. “You want to— ? But they’re Christmas cards, I thought…”
“I want to write you one.” Abigail held her breath. You’re already falling. The landing is going to be hell. But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.
Jasper’s whole face lit up, and Abigail knew she’d made the right decision. “There should be pens in there,” he said. “Pass me one?”
Jasper took his postcard and pen and stood on the other side of the post box, using its sloped roof as a writing surface. Abigail stayed kneeling down by the postcard crate. She angled her body so that Jasper couldn’t see what she was writing.
But what was she going to write?
Now that she had the pen in her hand, all inspiration fled. She didn’t want to write some sappy, stereotypical message. Not the sort of thing you could find pre-printed in millions of cards around the world already. The look in Jasper’s eyes when she said she wanted to write him a Christmas card— that deserved something special.
She closed her eyes, remembering their ice-skating date the night before. Coasting across the ice with her eyes closed— it had felt like flying. Like she could spread her arms and soar out over the snowy mountains, and leave the Christmas-infested town behind.
Don’t mess this up, she told herself sternly, and began to draw.
She pushed the postcard through the slot face-down. Jasper pouted. “I don’t get to see it?”
“Not until it’s sent,” she said, prickling. “Otherwise what’s the point?” And besides, I don’t want to see your face when you see it. Just in case I’ve just done the stupidest thing ever.
“Well, in that case…” Jasper clamped his postcard between his gloved hand
s and fed it through the slot, hiding his message from Abigail’s view. “You’ll just have to wait, too.”
Abigail snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s how mail generally works, yeah.”
Jasper turned to her. His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them. Almost— amber? But, no, amber wasn’t the right word for that strange combination of chocolate brown, gold and orange-red.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like Christmassy things and— well, I guess you figured out I’m kind of crazy about it…”
“Hey,” she said, reaching out to cover his lips with her gloved fingers before the conversation could get any more awkward. “I’m not a total Grinch. I can allow myself one stupid Christmassy thing each year.”
“Just the one?” Jasper’s eyes sparkled as he nipped at her fingertips.
“Don’t push it!” Abigail relaxed as Jasper laughed. So she’d written him a Christmas card. So what? It was just a card. It didn’t mean anything. “Now, how about that dinner you promised me?”
Jasper leapt back to the sled and picked up the hamper he had been unpacking before she noticed the post box. As she watched, he hefted it in one arm and gestured with the other to the picnic site. “Shall we?”
Abigail rubbed her hands together and nodded. Her breath was forming such a thick fog in the crisp air, so she wasn’t sure if he saw. But there were so many emotions fighting inside her, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Jasper grabbed a picnic blanket from the sled and arranged it on one of the log seats for her. While she sat down, he started unpacking the meal. The hamper steamed as he opened it, releasing mouth-watering smells.
“It’s nothing fancy, I’m afraid. Beef stew. Sourdough. The wine was mulled, so I hope this thermos has done its thing. Though, if it hasn’t, I guess cold mulled wine isn’t too different from sangria…”
Abigail took a deep breath. “It all looks amazing,” she said softly. Her voice didn’t tremble at all. Encouraged, she went on, “And it smells amazing. God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”