All I Want For Christmas Is You by Jessica Scott Page A

that she’ll wear a helmet if we go out on Thomas’s snowmobile later today.”
    Sam had glanced at her watch. “It’s already one. It’ll be dark soon.”
    Darkness came early up in the great north woods. It had taken her a day to remember that when she’d gone into the grocery store in broad daylight and come out in pitch darkness. At four p.m.
    “Snowmobiles have headlights.”
    So her mother was making cookies, her daughter was being exceptionally cooperative, and Sam was shopping for clothes with a man she was leaving. She’d sent her mom a text to let her know she was going to be late.
    She’d gotten no response, which meant that Natalie and her mom were probably passed out from sugar overdose.
    Now, she meandered around the men’s department, looking at sweaters, turtlenecks, and other articles of clothing suitable for surviving the Maine winter.
    “I can’t believe how much flannel is still being sold in this state.”
    She turned to see him standing behind her. He wore a charcoal grey turtleneck beneath a red-checkered flannel shirt.
    “You look like an L.L. Bean commercial.”
    “I feel like an escapee from a Pearl Jam concert circa 1994.”
    “Pearl Jam concert goers did not wear turtlenecks with their flannel, and they damn sure didn’t tuck them in.” She tipped her chin at him. For the first time since she’d come home, she smiled and it felt normal. “Flannel is an incredibly functional fabric, especially at ten below.”
    “Yes, but it went out of style in the rest of the country somewhere around 1996.”
    “So did mom jeans, but you still see those up here, too.”
    He glanced around. “Really? There are pleated jeans for sale?”
    “Why do you know that pleated jeans are mom jeans?” She held up one hand. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” She paused, taking in the entire selection of clothing he’d picked out. “If flannel is so nineties why are you wearing it?”
    “Because this is the warmest thing I’ve tried on. Nerdy turtleneck included.”
    She shot him a baleful look. “You realize that men are supposed to run hot. It’s the women folk who are supposed to be cold.”
    “Are you calling me a woman? Because I might have to take offense to that.” He took a single step closer, blocking her from the view of the rest of the store. “I assure you, flannel or not”—he leaned closer, until his breath slid across her ear—“I’m all man, baby.”
    The corniness of his line did nothing to undermine the heat of his touch. She closed her eyes as his lips barely brushed the outside of her ear. A sliver of pleasure shivered over her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for the sensation of his lips against her skin in the place he loved to touch her.
    And then he was gone, his warmth replaced by the cool circulating air.
    He untucked the shirt. “I’ll be in the changing room.” He plucked a blue and grey sweater from a table.
    And left her there.
    She stood for a moment, watching his retreating back before he disappeared behind the curtain.
    She narrowed her eyes. He’d done that on purpose. He’d stepped too close, teased her with one of the things he knew drove her crazy.
    And then he’d simply stopped.
    She breathed deeply, wishing for a moment that things were normal. That the feelings he’d just sparked inside her weren’t fleeting.
    That the flash of desire hadn’t already faded, dissipating into the darkness inside her.
    She wanted to feel it again.
    Because in that single instance, she’d felt real. She’d felt whole.
    She’d felt like her again.
    She stuffed her hands inside her jacket pockets and walked toward the dressing room.
    “Hey, Sam?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Can you come check something out for me?”
    She paused. “Is this going to get us arrested?” Silence greeted her question. “Are you done trying things on?”
    More silence.
    “Patrick?”
    Nothing.
    She reached for the curtain.
    At the same time he stepped out.
    Wearing