by Caroline Lee
No house.
She stepped forward.
A house.
A quaint house, done in the same fairy tale design of the rest of the town, with curly wood bits around the eaves, and a large front porch. It was painted a garish purple, but there were cheerful Christmas wreaths on each window and on the front door.
She stepped backward once more, and the empty lot shimmered into existence.
Forward, and there was the house.
Hmm.
Hunter lifted a brow at her, and she wondered why he wasn’t as confused as she was.
Had he only seen the house, and not the empty lot?
And how in the world was there a house here?
He took her hand again and pulled her up the front steps. Snow felt her feet dragging, as if reluctant to enter the mysterious house.
Maybe there’s something to the rumors of magic in town after all.
No, no, that would be silly.
Oh dear, this day was becoming odder and odder.
Hunter pushed open the front door, then stopped to stomp the snow off his boots. She did the same, but neither bothered to remove their hats and gloves.
“Miss Helga? Miss Somnolena?” The names echoed throughout the seemingly empty house. “I’ve brought Miss Snow to see the apples in the yard. I hope that’s fine?”
Suddenly, a flurry of whispers came from around the corner.
“Snow? Did he say Miss Snow?”
“Did you fall asleep again? Yes, he said Snow.”
“Oh dear, is it snowing again?”
“Somnolena!”
Before Snow and Hunter could do more than exchange a bemused glance, a cheerful face popped around another corner. “Snow! Snow’s here, everyone!”
Hunter nodded politely. “Hello, Miss Helga—”
“No need for formality, dear boy!”
He cleared his throat. “Um, yes, ma’am. I’d like to show Miss Snow the apple trees—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the plump woman turned back the way she came and cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Did you hear that, Bashful? The apple trees worked! You owe me five dollars!” she called, as she jogged off the way she came, not bothering to wave goodbye.
“Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s being— Ah-choo!”
Snow whirled to see a young woman holding a handkerchief under her red nose, irritation apparent on her face.
Hunter offered a smile. “Miss Sn—Suzy, do you think your aunt would mind if I—”
A new voice cut in. “I would not.”
Both Hunter and Snow turned to find a small, gray-haired woman peering fiercely up at them through thick spectacles. Or maybe just glaring at Snow; it was hard to tell.
A magical appearing house? Filled with strange women she’d never before seen?
Just what was going on here?
When the woman spoke, her voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m Doc, and it’s nice to finally meet you, Snow.”
Finally meet?
Had this woman heard of her?
In a bit of a daze, Snow offered her hand politely.
The older woman took it and patted it with her other hand. “I’m sure this is a bit of a surprise for you, and even we weren’t expecting to meet like this. We would’ve spruced the place up a bit if we’d have known.”
She waved her hand about, and Snow glanced to her left.
Had there always been a beautifully decorated Christmas tree there? She couldn’t recall.
Then the older woman—Doc?—smiled a bit awkwardly. “You see, we predicted we’d have you as a guest on Christmas, which is tomorrow! But Helga had a bit of a wager going, based on your love of apples, and— Well, it hardly matters now, does it?”
To be polite, Snow shook her head, although she didn’t understand a single thing the woman had said.
Doc tugged her closer and lowered her voice. “Listen, I know this is a bit of a shock. It’s probably easiest if you think of it all as simply being done with mirrors.”
As soon as she said it, Snow’s confusion seemed to slip away.
Mirrors! Of course! That made much more sense. These nice ladies probably had some sort of set up arranged with mirrors to keep their house hidden from casual passersby.
A part of her brain was jumping up and down and yelling, Why in the world would they do that? But the rest of her was focused on, Apples!
And the part of her brain which was currently jumping up and down managed to roll its eyes. Apples? Why in the world would apples matter this much to you?
Snow sighed and closed her eyes, wishing her sudden headache would go away.
And then Hunter took her hand from Doc’s, and it did go away. She inhaled his outdoorsy scent, and everything was alright in the world once more.
“Doc,” Hunter said solemnly, “I’m going to take Snow to the courtyard.”
“Yes, yes!” Did the old woman just wink? “Have a delightful time. It’s lovely this time of year.”
“This time of…?” Snow shook her head. It was winter.
“Come on.” Hunter was tugging her across the foyer toward a small door. “This is the closest way out there.”
When Snow glanced over her shoulder, she didn’t see any of the strange women.
But then Hunter was pushing open the back door, and Snow decided she didn’t care one whit about the house’s inhabitants, strange old women or otherwise. Because the courtyard garden was…magical!
It was still cold out, because it was a Wyoming winter, of course. But despite the mere sprinkling of snow—and how was that possible?—the trees were in full bloom. There were even apples still on the trees, as Hunter had promised.
Snow realized she was holding her breath, as she pulled away from Hunter and stepped into the center of the yard, and forced herself to inhale. Sure enough, the tangy scent of apples on the branches caressed and soothed her senses.
She drifted toward the closest tree, her hand out, hardly daring to touch it.
What if this was all done with mirrors as well?
But then her hand closed around the apple she’d reached for, and she had to admit it felt real.
But it wasn’t hers, so she wasn’t going to pluck it. Instead, she dropped her hand and shoved it back into her muff, then turned to Hunter with a breathless smile.
“This is amazing!”
He grinned in return. “Isn’t it? I guess they must tend the trees diligently. I have to admit I like it out here, because it just seems so…Christmas-y.” He thrust his hands out to the side, to encompass the entire yard, and slowly spun in a circle. “The reds and greens and whites all seem a bit magical.”
Yes, that was the word she’d used in her mind to describe it as well. Each tree had a dusting of snow on its branches, but the dark green of the leaves showed through. And the apples were small, but a healthy, bright red. They seemed to shine glossily, in defiance of the clouds covering the sun.
“They do look Christmas-y, don’t they?” she breathed.
Hunter was still smiling when he turned back to her and lowered his arms. “But they’re not as beautiful as your tree in the woods, Snow.”
“Oh, that…” She felt her cheeks grow warm, and so she focused on one of the apples growing over his shoulder. “I just miss decorating for Christmas sometimes.”
He took a step closer. “Some of the lace looked quite old. Some of it appeared newer.”
“I, um… I’ve been decorating our Christmas tree with lace since I was a little girl. Mama made some of those strands.” She dropped her gaze to her muff when he took another step closer. “And I’ve made more each year. Rose and I, we’d cut down a small tree and set it up in the parlor and decorate it with the lace.”
“But not this year?”
She didn’t have to look up to see the pity in his gaze; she could hear it. “Lucinda—my step-mother—she forbade it this year, and last year too, since Rose is gone. So I made do.”
She was trying to make her tone nonchalant, to make it seem as if losing Christmas didn’t matter to her, but she knew she’d failed when he stepped in front of her and lifted one hand.
When his finger touched her chin, lifting it so she’d meet his gaze, Snow thought she might faint. Such a simple touch, to make her feel so light-headed! Why, even now, darkness was creeping in—
Oh. She’d been holding her breath again.
She sucked in a lungful, just as his lips twitched sadly. “She wouldn’t allow you a Christmas tree, so you gathered all your decorations and went to your favorite spot.” He shook his head a bit, then moved his hand to her shoulder. “You’re right, you know? That is the prettiest spot to view the lake.”
He’d visited her cove, and loved it as much as she did. She could tell.
But he wasn’t done. He dragged his hand down her arm, until he could tug her hand out of the muff and wrap his fingers through hers. “Will you get to celebrate Christmas, Snow?” he asked in a whisper.
Unable to look away from that warm, cozy gaze, she shook her head. “Lucinda hasn’t celebrated for years, and with Rose gone…”
“There’s no one to celebrate with,” he finished. Then he inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders. “Miss Snow, I would be honored if you’d share Christmas with me. I might not have a real home right now, and I know I’ll be busy with church services, but I hope you’ll find time to share a meal, and perhaps some gifts, with me.”
Spend Christmas with him?
Her eyes widened, as she realized at this moment, there was no one in the world she’d rather spend Christmas with.
But she couldn’t say that, could she?
So she forced a smile. “Gifts? We only just met, Reverend Woods.”
“Please, call me Hunter,” he begged. Then his eyes lit up, and he reached over her shoulder with his free hand. “And I know you well enough to know what I can get you.”
She was just starting to turn when, with a flourish, he presented her with a shiny red apple.
“For you, Miss Snow.”
And she didn’t bother hiding her goofy smile as she took it from him. “Thank you, Hunter.” The fruit was round and smooth and fit her hand perfectly. She knew it would be sweet and tart in that delicious way new apples were. “I’ll save it for tomorrow—Christmas morning—since I’ve already had so many delicious apples today. Thank you again for the treat at MacKinnon’s.”
His grin was equally goofy, and she knew she’d said the right thing.
“Also, I think…” She took a deep breath and found herself stepping closer to him. “I think, all things considered, you should probably just call me Snow.”
As if her words had somehow conjured it, gentle fat flakes of snow began to fall from the sky. A few tumbled lazily down to rest on Hunter’s wide shoulders, but he didn’t appear to notice them.
Snow did though. She noticed the way the flakes landed on the apple trees around them, making them seem even more Christmas-y than before. She noticed the way the gold flecks in Hunter’s dark eyes sparkled as his free hand rested softly on her hip. She noticed the way they were breathing in sync, so that the air entering her lungs was shared with his.
And she noticed his lips. My, oh my, how she noticed his lips.
“Snow.” His gaze was locked on her lips. “Snow, I’d very much like to kiss you,” he murmured.
“That’s fair,” she whispered in return. “Because I’d very much like you to kiss me.”
That seemed to be all the permission he needed. In one movement, Hunter surged forward, his hold tightening on her hip as he pulled her to him. His lips lowered to hers, not crashing or crushing or any of the ways Zosia and Snow sometimes spoke of, but gentle and perfect and seeking.
Slowly, softly, he deepened the kiss, allowing her to lean against him and just enjoy the wonders of these sensations. She was pressed against him in the most wonderful way, and every inch of her body felt alive in his arms.
It was perfect.
And it was over far too soon. He was the one to pull away, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she followed him, unwilling to allow him his freedom. The kiss was too delicious to end, but when he called a halt, she was surprised to find she’d wrapped her arm around his neck and was playing with the hair under the back of his collar.
Oh my.
They stood, breathing deeply of each other’s scents, his forehead pressed to hers. His eyes were closed, and she thought maybe he was struggling not to move, to keep himself under control. Her eyes were wide open, determined not to miss any of this magical moment.
They might’ve stood like that for hours, until one big fat snowflake missed the brim of his hat and settled against her cheek. Startled, she jerked back, only to look up and realize it was snowing harder now.
Hunter tilted his head back, and a flake landed on his smooth chin, and another on his nose. He was chuckling when he met her eyes again.
“Well, Snow, this might be our cue to get back inside.”
It was, and she could’ve cursed the weather at that moment. She nodded reluctantly. “It’s my cue to return home, I expect. Lucinda probably hasn’t noticed my absence, unless she needed something. But if this keeps up, it’d be better to be in our own homes.”
When he dropped his arm from around hers, she could sense his disappointment. “And here I was, hoping to be snowed in with you.”
Snowed in with the reverend and his kisses? Yes please!
But she knew she shouldn’t. “I’m sure it won’t be a blizzard,” she offered with a smile. “It’ll stop by tomorrow, definitely.”
“In time for Christmas service?”
She nodded, having lived in Wyoming long enough to understand the weather. “I’m sure it’ll be over by tomorrow. And we can celebrate Christmas…together?” she finished, hesitantly, not sure the offer still stood.
He lifted her gloved hand and brushed a kiss across the back. Even that simple gesture made her shiver, though the act filled her with warmth.
“If you aren’t able to attend the service, Snow, I’d still like to invite you to Christmas dinner.”
She didn’t know what her day would hold, or what Lucinda would demand, but she knew she’d move heaven and earth to be able to celebrate Christmas with Hunter.
“Reverend Woods,” she said, with a teasing grin, “I’d like nothing more. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He was nodding eagerly. “May I escort you home?”
She thought of her stepmother and what the woman would say if she saw Hunter. Saw Hunter escorting Snow to the house. She hesitated. “I think… No, I think it’d be better if Lucinda didn’t meet you, at least not yet. I’d like to keep you to myself for a bit longer, if you don’t mind?”
His smile bloomed. “Well, I was going to be offended your stepmother wouldn’t like me, but when you finished with that delightful bit, I think my manly pride has been assuaged.”
When another fat flake landed on his nose, they both chuckled.
“Well, for the sake of your manly pride…” Snow stretched up on her toes and pressed a kiss to Hunter’s cheek.
He growled and wrapped his arm around her again. “That did nothing for my manly pride.”
This kiss was hard and fast, and just as perfect as the first one, and left Snow panting with yearning.
But he stepped back, dropping his hold on her and her hand. He lifted his to his brim, as if to bid her goodbye, but she could see the pain in his eyes.
It hurt him to say goodbye to her? As much as it hurt her to say it to him?
Her fingers curled around the apple—her only Christmas gift this year, and an absolutely perfect one—and she shoved it into her muff.
“Goodbye, Snow,” he said, in a strangled whisper.
“Goodbye, Hunter.”
She darted for the gate in the brick wall and wrenched it open. Before she left, she glanced back. He stood there, snow accumulating on his shoulders and hat, a wistful expre
ssion on his face.
And she knew.
He thought he’d given her an apple for Christmas, but his kiss—her first kiss—was a much better gift. Despite her qualms, she’d fallen in love with him.
And she didn’t regret it one bit.
Chapter 6
Snow wasn’t the first woman he’d kissed. She wasn’t the second, or even the third. She wasn’t the fourth—
Hunter decided to nip that line of thought in the bud, a little embarrassed to be parading his youthful escapades in front of the Lord.
The point was, he’d kissed other women before, but none of them had been Snow. And none of them—not a single one of those kisses—could compare to what he’d felt when he’d kissed her this afternoon among the apple trees.
She’d tasted of cinnamon and sugar and apples, the way he’d known she would, and he figured he was forever spoiled for the fruit. There was no way he’d be able to taste it again without remembering that magical first kiss.
And the second one wasn’t that bad either.
In fact, if he had his way, he wouldn’t have to remember that kiss, because he’d be kissing her a lot more often in the future too.
“Have you made up your mind yet, lad?”
The question jerked his attention away from his fantasies, and he frowned at the man softly tuning his violin in the corner of the church…only to realize Vincenzo Bellini couldn’t see it. The man had lost his eyes—and nearly his life—in some horrific accident years before. So Hunter opted to answer the question.
“Made up my mind about what? And I’m not a lad, sir.”
Vincenzo snorted in that gruff way of his. “If you call me sir, I’ll start calling you boy.”
Hunter, who had completed his preparation for the evening service, which was due to start in a half-hour, strolled over to the side of the church and propped his hip against one of the pews. “I hear you have your own son to be calling that.”
“Yes, and he’s better mannered than you are.”
Knowing when he was being goaded, Hunter snorted around his smile. “Made up my mind about what, old man?”
Vincenzo’s head was cocked to one side, in order to bring his ear closer to his exquisite instrument, and he wore an ornate red ribbon around his head to cover the scar where his eyes once were. Hunter had met him the day before, when his lovely wife—the bookstore owner—had come to the church with him to offer his talents for the Christmas services. Vincenzo had scowled fiercely—everything the man did was fierce—but hadn’t objected.