All by My Elf (Under the Mistletoe collection)

3

Ko had cooked a feast, and their dining room table should’ve been groaning under the weight of all those dishes.

Claudia had told her mom that Nina and William couldn’t stay for dinner, and Mrs.

Ko’s scowl had nearly bludgeoned them with disapproval.

But considering the imminent snowstorm, even she couldn’t argue the wisdom of getting back on the road as soon as possible, so Nina and William would hopefully reach their hotel just outside DC before conditions deteriorated too much.

Still, while they’d taken turns visiting the powder room, she’d packed them an absurdly large pile of resealable containers full of home-cooked food: scallion pork belly, stir-fried eggs and tomatoes, green beans and garlic, soup, and dumplings.

Also mac and cheese—

“Because our daughter still eats like an eight-year-old,”

Mr. Ko had told them.

“When Claudia said you didn’t have any food on board that ... monstrosity, I couldn’t believe it.”

Mrs. Ko shook her head. “No kitchen. No bathroom. No beds. Sending you off with a few leftovers is the least I can do. Are you sure you can’t stay here overnight? It’s beginning to snow already.”

It was. The first flakes were drifting down from the dark sky.

But they couldn’t stay—Ruth’s ruthless order—so they said their goodbyes and got back on the road.

After stopping by the nearest gas station to top off their tank and buy drinks, they took the exit for I-64 West and headed toward Richmond, where they’d catch I-95 North.

William sat by her side for the first time in two days, but neither of them said much.

Nina, because she needed to concentrate on the road, especially at night during not-great weather.

William, because ...

Who knew? Maybe he was missing Claudia.

For whatever reason, he was oddly fidgety too.

Kept changing the chosen playlist from indie rock to synthpop to Motown and back again, before fiddling with the heat and angling the vents in her direction.

And after about forty minutes on the interstate, in the middle of freaking nowhere, drifting flakes became a swirling, wind-driven deluge of snow.

Luckily, she was driving slowly and cautiously, because she didn’t—couldn’t—notice the sea of brake lights waiting for them until it was almost too late to stop.

The Mincemobile’s own antilock-brake system earned its keep, and their massive vehicle skidded to a halt with inches to spare between them and the rear bumper of the tiny electric car in front of them.

Momentum threw her against her seat belt, which held her firmly in place.

Once it loosened again, she let out a shaky, relieved breath and relaxed her too-tight grip on the steering wheel.

As she looked over to check on William, he was doing the same to her.

Slowly, he lowered the arm he’d flung in front of her. Another chivalrous gesture, however unnecessary.

“I can’t believe you got us stopped in time. You’re amazing, Nina.”

He was pale, his brown eyes worried as he scanned her up and down one more time. “But your neck ... Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

She wouldn’t make that look, those words, mean more to her than they should. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

Finally, after blowing out a hard breath, William bowed his dark head to check his phone. “No official traffic alerts from VDOT yet. And I don’t see anything ... Wait. According to this map, there might be an accident up ahead.”

She frowned. “Hopefully nothing too bad.”

In this weather? Getting help might take far, far longer than normal.

“Yeah.”

He bit his rosy lower lip, and she had to look away before the urge to jump him then and there became overwhelming. “I guess ... I guess we just wait it out?”

“There’s no exit anywhere nearby. I don’t think we have much of a choice, really.”

She squinted at the road ahead but could see almost nothing through the snow. Didn’t hear sirens either.

“The good news is that we just had a rest stop, our gas tank is full, and we have extra clothes in our suitcases and plenty of food. No matter what happens, we should be set for a while.”

“Worse comes to worst, we can just run the heat in occasional bursts to save gas.”

His smile looked strained. “More good news: right now, the conditions are so bad, no one’s going to be leaving their vehicle and knocking on our door for pies and phyllo fingers we don’t actually have. They might not even see us.”

That was good news. During their last bad traffic jam, outside Rockville, there’d been a near riot at the news of the Mincemobile’s mince-less contents.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe this will just be a quick holdup.”

But it wasn’t. An hour later, they hadn’t moved an inch. And since they hadn’t found any useful updates and didn’t hear or see official help on its way, they shut off the engine, unbuckled their “mincemeat belts,”

donned their branded fleece jackets, and began to eat their now-lukewarm dinner. Not all of it, though.

Partly because their stomachs would burst if they tried to fit that much food inside, and partly because they needed to ration their supplies. Just in case.

“At least we don’t need to worry about refrigerating the leftovers,”

she said through a mouthful of delicious green beans.

When he laughed, the husky sound vibrated through her like she was the world’s thirstiest tuning fork, and oh, this was an utter freaking disaster .

If traffic didn’t begin moving again soon, how was she going to handle so much unexpected intimacy?

Okay. Okay. After dinner, they’d switch places, and she’d plead exhaustion and simply pretend to sleep while he watched for clearing traffic ahead of them.

Because she wouldn’t betray her friend, and she refused to humiliate herself or make him uncomfortable by letting her reaction to his nearness become obvious.

“Lack of chill is not our current issue.”

His expression changed in a way she couldn’t read. “Except for ...”

Wait. Had he somehow sensed her utter lack of chill when it came to him? “Except for ... what?”

Silence. Nothing but the whistle of wind, its force faintly rocking the Mincemobile.

“Nothing. I can’t ...”

He shook his head, then bent back over his pork belly. “Nothing.”

If he’d been on the verge of mentioning her probably-far-too-obvious crush on him ... damn, how freaking embarrassing was that?

He wasn’t making things easier on her either.

Without air flowing through the vents, the warm, herbal scent of his shampoo suffused every breath she drew.

Light reflecting off the snow revealed just enough of his silhouette that she could tell he was turned toward her.

Watching her the same way he had earlier.

And in the near-total darkness of the unlit interior, the rustle of denim brushing denim emphasized every shift of those powerful thighs.

She wouldn’t act on her attraction, but she couldn’t help feeling it. Now more than ever.

Despite the heat of his proximity, the ambient temperature was dropping rapidly inside the vehicle.

The ever-deepening chill crept up the skirt of her sweaterdress and seeped through her thick stockings and fleece jacket.

Her feet were warm enough in her boots for now, but that wouldn’t stay true much longer unless she bundled up more.

Swallowing back a sigh, she set her plastic container on the dash while she shrugged into her wool winter coat.

“Would you like my coat too?”

He held it up for her inspection, but she already knew its appearance by heart.

Deep forest green and puffy, but somehow irresistibly flattering to his lean frame.

Also unlikely to fit more than about half of her own, much larger body.

“Thank you for offering. Unfortunately, it’s a bit small for me.”

Not an apology for her size—she’d broken that habit over a decade ago—but an acknowledgment of reality. “And I can always grab something from my suitcase if I get too cold.”

“You could just drape it over your legs,”

he suggested immediately, sounding entirely unbothered by the reminder of their physical differences.

“You need it more than I do.”

Her brows drew together. “In fact, why don’t you have it on already?”

She tended to run hot, but—as she’d discovered during their weeks on the road—he didn’t. By this point, he should be zipped and bundled and layered as much as humanly possible.

“I thought leaving it off might help.”

He paused, shifting in his seat. “And by that, I mean ... uh, help ... help get me used to the cold.”

What? “I don’t think that’s how things work.”

Removing his glasses, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Maybe not.”

“It’s harder to get warm again once you let your internal temperature drop too far. Please put on your coat, William.”

She huffed out an amused breath. “Unless you’re determined to become the only professor at Dogwood University who can cosplay as an ICEE Pop.”

“Fine,”

he muttered, then began working his arm into the first sleeve. “If it makes you happy.”

“It does.”

She smiled gratefully at him in the darkness. “Much like this mac and cheese. Do you think they used Gruyère? Because it’s not just cheddar. I know that much.”

With regret, she forked up her last bite.

Leisurely chewed the perfectly al dente fusilli noodles and swallowed.

Scraped the container for any remaining cheese sauce—she’d have to discover the exact cheese combo Mr.

Ko had used, for her own recipe collection—and licked her fork clean with a sigh of pleasure.

Beside her, William froze in place, then hastily removed his half-donned coat once more and laid it over his lap. “I think I’m warm enough without this. Sorry.”

Did guys experience hot flashes in their midthirties? Or was this some sort of macho posturing? She’d thought he was better than that, but ...

Either way, it was time to remove herself from temptation. “Listen, I’m getting a bit tired, so—”

“According to the most recent update from VDOT, it’ll be hours before we go anywhere,”

he said at exactly the same time. “Why don’t we try to grab some rest while we can?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

She shivered, hard. “If we’re not moving anytime soon, let’s clean up the food and put it in the back storage area, since that’ll be the coolest part of the interior. Then we can run the heat for a few minutes to warm up, huddle inside our coats”—

one of them would be doing that, anyway—“and nap for a while.”

He reached over to turn on the engine himself. “You’re getting cold.”

Well, duh. “A bit, yes.”

Her teeth chattered despite the rush of heated air through the vents, and even in the dim light, his deep frown was obvious.

“Listen ...”

He audibly swallowed, sounding oddly nervous. Also ... excited? “I was thinking maybe ... maybe we should, uh ... combine our respective body heats. While we nap.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“You ...”

Was she hallucinating this? “You want us to cuddle ?”

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

In a rapid rush of words, he added, “If you’re not, no problem. Please know that I’d never take advantage of the situation or make you uncomfortable in any way. I’d like to keep you warm and preserve our fuel, but we can just run the engine longer than we’d planned instead, if you’d feel at all unsafe in my—”

“I wouldn’t feel unsafe.”

Not because of him, anyway.

Because of her own desires? Possibly.

But they didn’t know how long they’d be stuck, so limiting their gas consumption was paramount.

Also, he clearly intended to keep things innocent, and she’d lop off a limb before betraying her best friend.

She’d already become uncomfortably cold.

And since he was resisting his coat, the man had to keep warm somehow, so ...

“Sure. We can cuddle.”

He sort of shook himself, as if awakening from a daze. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

It’d be fine. Just a little harmless sharing of body heat, like Scouts lost in the wilderness. Assuming those Scouts were huddling beneath an enormous tent shaped like a dick.