A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

Amore

"Oh wow, p-polpetta, so efficient!" Dair exclaimed, lowering a massive stack of chopped wood into the log holder.

His coat was unbuttoned, and even that much 'dishabille' somehow flustered her. He rubbed his hands, breathing at them, and sat down next to Billie onto the sleeping bag she'd unrolled. She started pulling the blanket off her shoulders, but he protested.

"You need it more than me," she said.

"I'm w-warm," he said. "W-we're lucky Alessandro d-dropped off the wood l-last week."

Billie studied him from the corner of her eye. It was impossible to determine whether his Johnny Canuck efforts had indeed raised his core temperature, or he was simply being gallant. Better safe than sorry, Billie thought, and lifted one arm like a wing, inviting him to join her under the blanket.

"I'm freezing," she lied, her tone unintentionally abrupt. "You'll have to share your warmth."

He immediately moved closer.

"No s-signal?" he asked.

Billie shook her head.

"We c-can sit in the car, if it's t-too cold here," he said.

"It's OK now," Billie grumbled back. "And you've chopped a lot. It might last till morning, if we end up staying the night." That was what was happening, wasn't it? "Did you tell anyone where we were going?"

"Alessandro and Jackie kn-now," he reminded her.

They were quiet for a few moments.

"D-did you check the second bag for food?" Dair asked.

Billie shook her head again. She could feel his gaze on the side of her face, but she stubbornly continued staring at the wood burner.

Could the man make the move already?! The tension was killing her!

She wanted them to have it all in the open now! The two of them were stuck together, in an isolated farmhouse, under the same blanket, sitting on a sleeping bag, on the floor. Obviously, he was thinking what she was thinking!

"I'll w-warm up a bit, and I'll check," he said in a comforting tone. "There should be some j-jerky there, and energy bars. I'd just been on a t-trip to Kouchibouguac."

Oh bother. Apparently, he was not thinking what she was thinking. It turned out, she was a lecher, while he was hungry. Billie groaned and dropped her forehead on her pulled-up knees.

"C-cara, I'm sorry," he said quietly, his tone grave. "I sh-should've checked the forecast."

Billie exhaled an 'uh-huh' into her kneecaps.

"T-tomorrow, if they d-don't clear the road here or the phones aren't b-back on, I c-can walk to the n-nearest–"

Words jumbled into his throat because Billie gave out an annoyed 'Oh c'mon!' and scrambled to her feet. She shoved the blanket towards him and stomped to the next room. There was nothing to do here, realistically; and her nose and hands felt immediately cold; so she gave herself a couple of minutes of fuming and berating herself - how come she's turned into Connie craving to christen Mellors' hut, all of a sudden?! - and then she went back.

He was immediately on his feet, fussing and flailing the blanket in the air, while muttering something about 'peanut butter and dark chocolate' and 'organic C-california beef.'

"You're the one who needs to eat," Billie retorted, lowering her backside back onto the sleeping bag. "You've probably burnt all the calories from the pudding you had at Miss Rosa's."