Christmas on 4th Street (Fool's Gold #12.5)

“I don’t know. We might be stuck until the storm passes.”


She shuddered. He studied her in the fading light and saw that she was pale and shaking. He ripped off her gloves and touched her fingers. They were wet and freezing.

There was no guarantee he could get them out tonight. From what he could remember from the forecast, it was supposed to snow until at least midnight. He looked at the small cabin. There was a chimney and the little he could see was well-maintained.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “We’ll get you warm and settle in for the night. I’ll see if I can dig us out in the morning.”

He waited for her to make a joke, but there was only the sound of her teeth chattering.

He helped her toward the cabin. They found steps and climbed up them onto the porch. He thought he might have to go looking for a key, but the door opened easily.

Inside was much warmer than outside, but incredibly dark. Gabriel reached for a switch on the wall and was surprised when lights came on.

“They still have electricity,” he said, wondering how long until it went out. “I’ll get you settled and warm, then go find some firewood.”

“You think we’re going to lose power?” Noelle asked through her chattering teeth.

“If it keeps snowing.”

He found the controls for the furnace and turned the thermostat up from forty-five to seventy. A quick tour of the cabin told him it was small—maybe six hundred square feet of open concept. A double bed was at one end, the kitchen at the other, with a living area in the middle. The only closed-off room was a small, three-quarter bath. He checked and there was still running water, although it wasn’t especially warm.

He led Noelle to the sofa and peeled off her jacket. It was soaked all the way through. She must have gotten snow inside when she’d fallen and then it had melted. Her shirt was damp, as were her jeans. She was shaking.

He had her sit, then quickly removed her boots. Her socks were soaked and her feet frozen. He got up and walked to the bed, where he stripped off the blankets. There was a cedar chest at the foot of the bed with more blankets inside. He grabbed all of them and returned to the sofa.

“Stand up,” he said, helping her to her feet. “We have to get you out of your clothes.”

He waited for a funny retort, but she only nodded. She was shaking too hard to undo her jeans, so he reached for the button at the waistband, then lowered the zipper.

The cold, wet fabric clung to her. He eased it down, ignoring her smooth skin and long legs. She stepped out of the jeans, then pulled off her sweater. The long-sleeved T-shirt came next and she was standing in front of him in bikini panties and a bra.

She was long and lean, with small br**sts and narrow hips. Her pale skin was puckered with goose bumps, and she shivered and trembled. As much as he wanted to take a moment and enjoy the view, this wasn’t the time. He quickly wrapped her in the blankets and began to rub his hands up and down her arms and legs.

As he moved over her, he reminded himself that he was a doctor. His actions were purely professional and enjoying them was wrong on multiple levels.

He worked on her until she stopped trembling so hard. “Curl up on the sofa,” he told her. “I’ll get us settled.”

She nodded, still unable to speak.

He checked the vents. Warm air drifted out, but there wasn’t a lot of force behind it. No doubt the unit was small and old. It would take a couple of hours to get the cabin up to temperature. He draped her damp clothes over chairs he placed near the vents. The shirt and sweater weren’t as wet as her jeans, but eventually everything would dry.

He opened the refrigerator and didn’t find any food, but the cupboards were full of canned and packaged goods. He looked in the freezer and was surprised to find it full of casseroles, each labeled and dated. Most of them had been made within the past couple of months. The mayor hadn’t been kidding when she told Noelle it was kept stocked.

He pulled out a couple of casseroles and took the lids off so they could start to thaw. There was a small microwave on the counter, but that would only last as long as they had electricity. He was impressed it was still going, but had a bad feeling about it lasting much longer.

He checked drawers and under the sink. In a small alcove by the front door he found lanterns, both gas and electric. He set the latter to charging, then found two more by the bed and plugged them in.

The stove was wood, which was both good and bad. They could always cook, assuming either of them figured out how to use a woodstove. The closest he’d ever come had been roasting marshmallows on a camp-out. He glanced at Noelle, who sat huddled in her blankets, her eyes closed. She didn’t strike him as much of an outdoor girl.

There was more color in her face and she was shivering less. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.