Roxanne slept soundly, and woke up thinking of the forest and craving sugarplums. She used a musky vanilla fabric spray on her sheets at home, but Mark’s bed was rich with his woodsy scent, and it felt homier to wake up in than hers did, which was as surprising as it was refreshing. Fresh morning light filtered in through curtain on the bedroom window, and the air was scented with the smell of fresh coffee and something cinnamon.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes Roxanne pulled herself out of bed and stumbled to the small bathroom. She brushed her teeth to get rid of the dragon breath, and gave her face a quick wash with cool water from the faucet, then brushed out her hair and tamed the wild curls from last night’s wet bun into a more reasonable low ponytail. Back in the bedroom, she put her bra back on without taking off her shirt and added a quick sheen of lip gloss, and then made Mark’s bed before venturing out of the bedroom.

She found him in the kitchen, wearing his jacket unzipped over a pair of bright blue snow pants and pulling a tray out of the oven. His hair was sticking up in wayward tufts, but when he looked up at her his eyes seemed even more brilliantly green in the sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window above the sink.

“Morning,” she greeted him. “Something smells delicious.”

“Well, good morning.” He smiled at her as he set a plate of cinnamon rolls on the table and plucked an empty coffee mug from the rack hanging above the counter. He poured her a cup of coffee and set it on the table next to the plate of steaming pastries, and motioned toward bowls of cream and sugar. “Don’t get too excited,” he teased when she bypassed the coffee and reached for a cinnamon roll, “coffee is fresh ground, but the cinnamon rolls are from a can. Figured you might like something more substantial that a bit of granola and a strip of cowboy jerky.”

Roxanne took a bite, savoring the sticky sweetness as it melted on her tongue, and swallowed. “It’s amazing. I woke up with a sweet craving. Totally on carb overload after the pie, though.”

“Nah,” Mark said, picking up a roll for himself and cupping one hand underneath it as he took a bite. “You’ll work it off today in the snow.”

“Oh, that’s right!” She had almost forgotten that getting her things from her car would require a trip back through the snow, and that this time Mark wouldn’t be carrying her along the way. “Is it a long walk back to my car? How far is it?”

“Not far at all,” he grinned, pointing meaningfully toward the living room. Roxanne looked in the direction he was pointing and saw her suitcase—a hardside Tumi—waiting at the back door. “I hope you don’t mind, but I still had your car keys in my pocket and you were sleeping, so I trekked out there this morning and took care of everything. Figured you didn’t have the gear for the hike anyway. Your bags are in the living room defrosting.”

Roxanne felt her eyes bug out in surprise. “Oh my gosh, you’re kidding? You didn't have to do that! I would have gone with you—you should have woken me up.”

He shrugged, and took a sip of coffee. “You did have an accident yesterday, Roxanne. You needed the sleep, and I enjoy a good morning hike anyway, and it was easier on foot than on the Snowcat. Plus I’m an early riser. Don’t think on it again. My pleasure, I promise.”

While she was grateful, again, for Mark’s consideration, and relieved that she could soon get back into her own clothes, Roxanne almost regretted missing the walk in the snow with her favorite stranger. Sure, she hated hiking, and she hated snow, and combined it sounded like a special sort of torture, but still, it was hard to imagine not enjoying taking the walk with Mark. Then, she remembered that it hadn’t only been the suitcase they’d been after. “How bad is the damage to my car?” She tried not to wince when she said it, but the BMW was virtually brand new, and repairs would undoubtedly be expensive.

“Surprisingly minimal. In fact, almost nonexistent. Some ice in the grill, but I got that out. Maybe a ding here or there in the hood, but you’d have to look to find it. The softness of the snow really did you a favor. Needs a little digging out of the snow, but everything seems in shipshape.”

“That’s amazing news. I’m so glad I won’t have to deal with major repairs.” A tension in her shoulders she hadn’t known she’d been carrying relaxed. She stuffed the last of the cinnamon roll in her mouth and poured herself a cup of coffee, breathing in the rich scent. It smelled like hazelnut and would pair wonderfully with the pastry. “I still wish I knew what ran out in front of me.”

“Could have been a deer,” Mark shrugged and winked at her, “could have been Santa. Never know this time of year.”

After breakfast Roxanne showered and did her hair and makeup, then dressed in the warmest outfit she had packed for her trip—black leather leggings and an oversized, eggshell cashmere sweater, with a few layers of chenille scarves. She considered her shiny patent leather ankle boots, then opted for Mag’s borrowed wet weather boots instead, and pulled on the Burberry beanie over her auburn hair that she’d left loose and straight.

She checked her reflection in the mirror of Mark’s bedroom, and was relieved to see Roxanne Hudson, Fashion Editor looking back at her, and not the haphazard girl with messy hair and men’s clothing. That look had worked last night, but today was a new day—she had to get to her family’s house and get to whatever fresh hell awaited her there—not to mention she wanted to look good for Mark. Besides, her ass looked amazing in these pants. She wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye to Mark, and even though she knew nothing could come of it, she was considering inviting him to Christmas dinner with her parents. They knew him, and it wasn’t like he had other plans. It wouldn't be a date, she reasoned with herself, she owed him for basically rescuing her. It was a thank you.

“Ready when you are,” he called from the den, breaking into her thoughts. Mark had been in and out of the house, a string of bells on the backdoor announcing his coming and goings as he loaded the Snowcat with the gifts for the children’s toy drive. “No hurry; take your time.”

“I’m coming,” she called back, tossing her winter coat over her shoulder as she slipped the zipper on her overnight bag closed. She took one last look in the mirror, flipped her hair, and checked her lipstick. Yeah, her ass looked amazing in those leather leggings. A little much for a family holiday, but très chic, which always won out over practicality.

Mark’s eyed bugged a little when Roxanne strode through the doorway and into the den, hoisting her heavy bag on her shoulder. In an instant he was in front of her, taking the heavy bag off of her hands as his eyes wandered over her. “Welcome back, Ms. New York,” he said with a light smile that didn’t match the husky quality that had returned to his voice. There was something about it that made Roxanne blush.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, preening just a little.

“Not at all,” he replied. His hand brushed her shoulder as he withdrew the bag and for a moment he lifted his hand like he might touch her face. Roxanne could feel the heat pulsing from his fingers, rising toward her. She shifted, just barely, and rolled her eyes up to meet his as she felt her lips soften and pucker. “Cold,” he said, and his voice cracked and he took back his hand, letting it fall at his side as he took a step backward. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s cold out. Might be a little too cold for you, unless you’ve got a snowsuit I didn’t see. We need to get you bundled up. You’d make a lovely ice sculpture, but I don’t think you’d enjoy the experience.”

The flirt in her started to protest, but then the realist kicked in. She showed him the coat, fully prepared to list off its designer qualities, but the look on his face was the same passive, unregistering one he’d worn every other time she’d prattled on about such useless information so she just shrugged. “This is all I brought,” she sighed. “You don’t happen to have a coat I could borrow for the ride, do you?”

“In fact,” he said, making a confirming clicking sound with his tongue as he slid past her purposefully. “I believe I do. Mags has some extra outdoor gear in the linen closet in the kitchen. Coat, I think, and some gloves. I’ll go grab it.”

At the doorway to the kitchen, he stopped and put his palm on the wall, then looked at her over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way, the storm’s passed and the cell towers seem to be back up and all clear. Check your phone, you might have service now if there’s anyone you want to check in with.”

Roxanne reached into her Louis Vuitton and pulled out her iPhone, then held the little round button until the screen lit up with life. She waited patiently, listening as Mark rummaged around in closets unseen. When her phone’s background wallpaper—a press photo of Hunter and her at a junket for Calvin Klein’s fall line—appeared on screen, the image looked different than it had the last time she’d seen it. Hunter looked dashing as always, his trim European tailored suit as perfectly styled as his wave of sandy blond hair. She had worn a Hepburn inspired LBD with off-shoulder sleeves, a full high-low skirt, and crystals and pearls everywhere she could stick them. They’d both been dashing, no doubt about that, but for the first time Roxanne saw beyond the perfect façade the camera had captured. The smile on Hunter’s profile as he looked at her and the way he had his arm was slung low around her back weren’t evidence of his love for her, but a polished, camera-ready pose. The grin on Roxanne’s face was so forced it was almost a wince.

She waited, but no new text messages came through her phone. Not that she’d expected to hear from Hunter, but he had known shed been driving out of state, in her brand new car that had never left the parking garage at their apartment. He should have checked in on her, right?

Roxanne was still staring indecisively at the picture on her phone when Mark’s concerned voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Is something wrong,” he asked.

“No,” she answered, slipping her phone back into her bag. “Nothing.”

He smiled, too polite to press the matter, and walked toward her, holding a thick coat and other assorted winter accessories out to her. “These certainly aren’t as fashionable as you’re used to, but they’ll keep you warm and comfortable out in the snow.”

Roxanne accepted the gear, and cast a final look around the cabin. The room that had been so foreign to her only a few hours ago had become rich with warm memories. Sweet maple pie in the kitchen. Warm bourbon by the crackling fire. Laughter as she and Mark wrapped gift after gift under the tree they’d strung with lights and garland. Bogie’s head on her knee. Mark’s eyes on her as they watched the snow.

She wasn’t ready for it all to end. Not just yet.

“Hey,” she said. “Do you think instead of going straight to the cabin, maybe I could tag along and help you deliver presents?”

He arched an eyebrow and gave her a teasing smirk. “And here I thought you might never get into the spirit. I’m so pleased you’ve decided to renounce your Grinchy ways. I was a bit worried when you walked out this morning in leather pants.”

“I have not renounced anything.” Roxanne laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully.. “I just figured I worked so hard wrapping them, that it would be nice to make sure they got delivered on time.”

She shrugged into the coat, flipped her hair free of the hood, and winked at him as he pulled his own parka over his arms. “And I’m pretty sure, like, ninety percent of twenty-something fashionistas have these exact leather pants on their Christmas list this year, too, just so you know. There may even be a pair in Santa’s sleigh for you, Mr. Plaid Shirt McParka Ranger.”

“Well, in that case,” Mark said, pulling the backdoor open for her as he motioned to the landscape of snowy white outside, “after you. Let’s deliver some toys.”