Eggnog & Evergreen

28 • Cozy Cabin

I think I'm dead.

I suppose, ironically, the cold is actually preserving my otherwise dead body.

After a solid 20 minutes, I finally start to recognize landmarks and can sort of figure out where we are. I know from the collapsed stone wall that we are at least on the outskirts of Aunt Holly and Uncle Hank's property.

I pull the fleece blanket further up my chest in hopes of capturing some warmth. Nik shifts beside me and I'm very aware how close our thighs are and that some of the warmth is from him.

"Almost there," Nik says, pointing to literally nothing but snow.

"I can't see anything." I almost shout at him.

Who knew wind could howl this vociferously?

If I really squint, and pretend it's there, I can see the mountainy bungalow just on the horizon. Snuggled between lopsided pines, it's almost buried in snow. Its steep A roof stretches down to the forest floor, and I can just make out smoke rising from the stone chimney.

God damn, it had to be picturesque.

I remember it from years ago, when my dad and uncle used to take me out on the property. I remember it dilapidated and tumbledown -not like something that fell out of a fairytale!

We stop unceremoniously, the sleigh running square into a snowbank. Nik untethers Trotter and Minka and leads them to a small paddock on the side of the house that's outline with white lights. 

"Quick -Inside," Nik yells.

I hobble after Nik and up to the doorway. The cabin's windows are like tiny bright squares in the dark. I stare at the red door, safe and closed, and somehow know the exact opposite is in store for us.

Nik pushes the door open and crosses the threshold. Under a string of incandescent bulbs, his face looks somehow warm, vintage even. It remains so in the afterglow, touched by the sepia gods. He sheds his coat like a snakeskin that keeps the shape of his arms even as he tosses it onto the plaid chair.

"Noe?" Nik asks, head tilted.

I find myself in his doorway, caught between the harsh wind and snow at my back and the prospect of warmth in front of me. The yellow glow from the embers in the fireplace bathes the cozy cabin in light. Even from the door, I can tell this place holds much more than a threadbare sofa and old fishing gear.

"Are you going to try and murder me with an axe?" I ask, frowning.

"Promise not," Nik laughs.

"Are there any creepy twins hiding down the hall?" I peer sideways.

"Not that I know of," Nik shakes his head. "If you have no other Shining jokes, then get in before you let all the warmth out!"

"Fine," I mumble, dragging my heavy snow boots.

Nik moves behind me to shut the door and I'm instantly 10 degrees warmer.

"Wow," I say.

"Nice, huh? A perk of being so small -It heats up like a boiler room." Nik moves over to the fire and slides open the gate.

He removes logs from a stack of splintered firewood that's nestled in a hole in the wall. Nik lights a green colored candle that burns oddly bright in the cozy den. My eyes wander around the room -up the stone fireplace, over the tattered leather sofa, and onto the sheepskin blanket stretched in front of the flames.

"You should get out of those clothes," Nik says, unvarnished.

"Wha-" I spin around and see Nik's bare chest actually glistening in the firelight. Every. Single. Ab.

What was I saying about being dead?

"Strip much?" I laugh awkwardly.

"Our clothes are soaked through. You'll get sick if you stay in them." Nik disappears into the next room.

I walk around to the front of the fire and toast my backside. Nik returns moments later, gray sweats hanging loosely on his hips. He's kind enough to pull on a white T shirt to shield my eyes from his physique.

"For you," Nik says, hanging me s rolled-up shirt.

He's so close to me, I can't tell if I'm warm because of him or the fire.

"I'm not wearing your clothes!" I don't mean to sound disgusted, but it happens anyway. Well, more in disbelief than disgusted.

"You won't warm up like that," Nik says, looking at my soaking wet pants.

"Ugh," I groan. "Fine."

I take the rolled-up flannel from Nik and scoot around to what I have to guess is his kitchen.

"You didn't give me any pants," I say.

"I don't have anything besides jeans," he says, guiltily. I widen my eyes at him. "Oh, the shirt is very long, and you can cover up with this blanket."

Nik tosses me the knitted throw draped across the back of the sofa.

"Ugh, you're lucky I'm freezing cold, or I would be pissed right now."

I peel off my sweater and camisole and pull on the flannel. It falls nicely to just above my knees. I'm reminded of all the times I used to wear Preston's shirts to bed. I shimmy my jeans down my legs. They feel cold and wet and sweaty altogether.

I wrap the blanket around my waist and return to the fire. Nik's eyes follow me the whole way, and I can see the smile growing on his face.

"What is it?" I exhale, annoyed.

"Shirt looks good on you," he says, shrugging.

Nik falls to the sofa, and, after a moment of hesitation, I sit down beside him. His fragrant skin (or sweat) encircles me like a pine wreath, or a pine scarf. I don't hate it.

The warmth from the fire spreads through my bare skin and it almost is like sun-bathing on a hot, sandy beach.

For purely creative reasons, I picture Nik on a beach -his chiseled jaw and washboard lumberjack abs all tan, and salty from the ocean. I picture him and I on a beach together. He'd sure look good in Hawaii.

Ugh!

This cabin is dangerous. I might prefer the axe murder.