“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.”