Absently, she chatted to Tubb and Janice. Finally, her phone chirped with a text. I’m home. Come and get me. xxxxxxxxxxxx Her pulse jumped in several places.

‘Night then. Gotta go.’ Ignoring the knowing grins from Carola, Owen, Tubb and Janice as she called hurried goodnights, she dragged on her coat without finishing her drink. She skated rather than ran down Main Street to Rotten Row, slithering and sliding all the way to a brick cottage with dormer windows that had been their home for several months. Breath burning in her throat she fumbled with her key and burst in.

On the quarry-tiled floor of the tiny hall stood a rucksack and a pair of hiking boots in a puddle of melting snow. A delighted Dalmatian burst out of the sitting room shouting a welcoming, ‘Hnuh, hnuh, WOAH! Hnuh, hnuh, WOAH!’

‘Hey, Doggo,’ Lily panted, patting his wiggling back. ‘Where’s your human?’

‘Waiting for you.’ Isaac appeared in the doorway and swept her into his arms, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, only letting her up for air when she was completely breathless. ‘Do you mind that I didn’t come to the pub? I just wanted to be with you.’

‘Not one bit,’ she assured him. ‘I want to be with you too.’ Then, between kisses, she added, ‘Carola was telling Ferdy and Elvis about last year in Switzerland.’

His movements slowed and he pulled back to look into her face. ‘Did it make you wish you’d taken that job with Los at British Country Foods?’

She nibbled his throat, tasting the salt of his skin. ‘Switzerland would have been fantastic but I love my wonderful job with the hotel chain and I love Middledip.’

‘And …?’ he murmured, nestling her against him.

She grinned and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. ‘I love you too.’

The light in his eyes softened. ‘I love you. I love you, Middledip and the home we’re making together.’ His mouth slipped down to her neck, his hands roving over her body as if he had to assure himself that she hadn’t moved any of the good bits around while he’d been away instructing in Wales. His voice dropped. ‘I think it’s bedtime.’

Raising her eyebrows, Lily glanced at the cuckoo clock that had pride of place on the sitting room wall. ‘It’s only twenty-five to eight.’

He picked her up and buried his face against her. ‘The perfect time.’

Acknowledgements

My thanks to everyone who helped me along the writing journey that became Let it Snow.