Claustrophobic Christmas by Ellie Marvel Page A

stand and slid her glasses onto her face. She inhaled long and slow, holding it in until she was dizzy. The wind blew the precipitation sideways, zinging them with flakes and pellets. Her hair whisked out of the bun and half-covered her face.
    She let it. It was fuzzy and warm.
    James peered at her with a frown. “Did I do something?”
    “No. I’m…” Neurotic.
    He brushed snow off her sleeves. When she did nothing besides breathe and tremble, he knelt in front of her and dusted her pants. She was too cold to feel it.
    The dog and the doggie daddy were watching them, but the kids were sacked out in the back of the SUV.
    “I’ve got issues,” she whispered. She closed her door, shutting off the light.
    “What did you say?” He stood, close, almost touching, his body blocking the wind.
    She had to tell him or send him away. Claustrophobia wasn’t bizarre, wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, but it had far-reaching consequences. Like a travel agent who didn’t travel. “I don’t want to get back in the car.”
    “Okay.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes. His hood was off; his gloves were off. His hands were cold too. “Are you going to tell me why, or is it none of my business?”
    Icy wind whipped their exposed skin in a painful blast of liberty. Better. Much better. Darcy didn’t even mind him sharing her space. His big, parka-clad body was so solid it seemed like nothing could knock him over, faze him, or catch him unaware.
    During the past six months, she’d learned a lot about James’s likes and dislikes. He was laid back and accepting. He wouldn’t hate her. He wasn’t a hateful person. Maybe if he knew, it could enhance their working relationship. Besides, who else was he going to talk to for the next twelve hours? Doggy daddy?
    “I have a confession,” she whispered.
    He leaned close enough that she could see him wink. “You farted in there?”
    Darcy kind of laughed. If only. “James, seriously. This is a big deal.”
    “I’m listening.” When she only swallowed, he caressed her hair, trapping it against her head. “You can tell me anything, Darcy. You know that, right?”
    Here goes.
    “I’m claustrophobic. Small spaces, you know. All that mess.” She stared at the snow. It buried her feet, and she could feel it soaking her sneakers. “I need air sometimes.”
    He released her hair. “And here I am crowding you.”
    “Don’t go.” She grabbed his coat and pulled before he could get away.
    His body bumped her into the car and she held him fast. He obliged her. She couldn’t tell if he was reluctant, but he did what she wanted.
    Darcy shivered. Everything out here was grey and white and black, bleached out by the storm and the night. Her front was protected, but oh bananas, was every other part of her cold! Her face and feet seemed to be getting the worst of it. They burned with chill, which was strange, in an oxymoronic way. Snow coated her hair and his hair. It coated their shoulders and their shoes up to the ankles.
    “How much air do you need?” James asked.
    “I don’t know.” The wind picked up, showering them with ice. Her hair thrashed like an unpruned bush. He tried smoothing it back but was unequal to the task. So he protected her face, his hands cupping her cheeks.
    A black strand of the monster flew into his mouth and he laughed. “You have more hair than anybody I’ve ever met.”
    “And a hard head,” she reminded him. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what it sounded like to be out of doors. The whistle of wind, the gurgle of motors, and in between that, the delicate rain of snow and ice. She heard voices, the crackle of a radio. Car doors. A baby crying.
    Her skin felt different out here, without the pressure of walls.
    Her body felt different with James pressing her instead of walls. Different good.
    “I’m about to do something forward,” James told her.
    Her eyes flew open and she stared at his shadowy face. There wasn’t enough light to read