Page 29 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart

The smell of hot cedar and burning coals filled the sauna, dry air enveloping Rowan like a hug. She’d changed into a towel in the lodge and sprinted across the cold deck, letting out all kinds of undignified squeals and grunts.

Gavin had gotten there first, putting her in the awkward position of deciding where to sit relative to him.

Decision-making was difficult at that moment, given the distraction of his bare chest and shoulders, already glistening with a sheen of sweat.

It beaded in the dark hair scattered across his pecs and left a trail down the muscles of his abdomen.

He had the build of a man who was consistent in his gym routine without making it his second home.

Muscles defined, but not without the soft spots that implied he had better things to do than get them their own zip code.

Aware of the reciprocal glide of his eyes over her body, she took a seat at what seemed a respectable distance. Not too close, but not too far.

The dense air settled in, and it was like breathing soup. She pressed her shoulders back against the wood of the wall, scorching her most tense locations. Rubbing herself against it, she worked at a tight spot near the base of her neck.

“Can I help?”

Her eyes flew open, glancing over to where Gavin watched with an amused expression.

Her voice came out in a squeak. “Help?”

“You’re giving yourself the world’s most ineffective massage. Can I take over?”

Her mouth was dry and sticky as she nodded and crossed to sit beside him, turning to expose her back his way.

He shifted closer so that his legs boxed her in on either side, and then his hands arrived.

Her stress melted away as he began to squeeze and rub along the rigid line of her neck muscles.

He worked his way over the knots deftly, thumbs circling to break up unhappy pockets of pent-up stress, fingertips occasionally brushing dangerously underneath the edge of her towel.

It was difficult to keep her mind in the present as she wondered whether he was always this attentive, whether he would be this attentive if they dropped the towels and the pretenses that came with them.

He would be. She was sure of it.

The smooth rumble of his voice, like stones swept up in a surf, arrived in her ear, causing a shiver to run down her back.

“Is that good?” he asked.

“Very good.” She allowed herself to relax into him, and everything she’d been holding on to slowly melted away.

“I expected you to be tense…But this is impressive, Midwinter.”

She shot a reply over her shoulder. “Some of us can’t afford to hire professionals to do this, McCreery.”

“Mmm. This is all from work?”

“Other than the new knots from this week …Yes. I…don’t have much else going on.”

“Nonprofit work’s all-consuming. Doubly so trying to tackle what you’ve taken on.”

She nodded, hit by an upswell of guilt at the thought of the SunlightCorps. Memories of the fundraiser rushed back, chased by shame. If they hadn’t raised enough, it was her fault. Lorena had trusted her, everyone had trusted her, even Dade, who had every reason not to—and it had been a mistake.

She hadn’t deserved their trust.

It was impossible not to think of all the spells that might have helped. She could have used spells to boost her voice, to memorize the cards, or to put them back in order when they’d fallen.

But I might have also used spells to force them to donate, bent them to my will.

A choked sob came out of her throat.

His hands snapped away. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” But tears dripped from her eyes, ending a years-long streak of not crying in front of another person.

“You are not fine.” He stopped, turning her around to face him.

She tried to put words to it, but when she tried, more tears came out instead.

He pulled her in close, simply holding her until she got it all out.

His chin rested on her head; his arms wound around her.

She hadn’t even realized how much she’d been holding in, and for how long.

At least since her grandmother had died, but maybe since that night eight years ago, when everything inside her twisted into one solid knot.

It had been so easy to get swept up, but if she ever truly embraced her magic, people would look at her the same way they had her grandmother. And if Gavin ever got any hint of it, he would hate her.

As much as I hate myself.

She wiped her eyes and pulled her way free from his arms to shoot him an awkward smile. He studied her quietly.

“Sorry,” she said. “I think I killed the mood.”

“It’s really okay.”

Lightly nudging him with her elbow, she said, “Did you know your sexy shoulder rubs had the power to make the ladies break down completely?”

Laughing lightly, he said, “It’s a first for me.”

“I’m honored,” she joked, but she couldn’t help feeling like wacky Rowan Midwinter and not whatever version of Rowan he had wanted to go into a sauna with. She needed to hold it together, so that he didn’t see too much.

With a spike of anxiety, she glanced around the sauna, looking for any evidence that the moment they’d shared had made her magic go wild again.

But nothing had changed. At least she’d gotten a handle on that.

An insistent knock at the door sent them scooting apart from one another. A loud male voice called out, “Everyone decent in there?”

Gavin’s face widened in surprise as he called back, “Dad?”

Dennis McCreery’s voice filled the room as he scarfed down kransenkake and swilled coffee.

“So, imagine my surprise when I heard ski patrol had been called out to take my son to Aelfhome on Christmas Eve, with a guest no less.” At that, he glanced at Rowan, and she swore she caught his eyes narrowing.

They sat around the lodge’s communal table.

A few guests had come in to use the kitchen and were stomping around, leaving dripping trails.

Gavin’s grandparents were back as well, bustling to prepare dinner.

Grandfather Peter turned out to be a tall, narrow, mustached man who was even quieter than his grandson.

He’d said a simple hello before returning to his labors.

“I told them only to come if they weren’t busy,” said Gavin.

Dennis’s chest shook with a laugh, and he held up his hands. “I came out here to pick you up, not to chastise. We need to get back to the house. Get things ready for people to come over.”

“I did a lot of the prep this morning,” said Gavin. “I don’t think there’s much left…”

“More than I can do on my own,” said Dennis.

“Such as?”

“The lights,” said Dennis with a snap of the fingers and a wink to go with it. “Don’t want me to fall off the ladder and break something, do you?”

Rowan stared at him in disbelief. The appeal might have made sense coming from a frail old man, but Dennis McCreery was a mountaineer.

This man is the definition of learned helplessness.

Despite the obviousness of the ploy, Gavin gave in. “Of course not,” he said before looking at Rowan with a small smile of apology. “I guess it is time we head out.”

She looked from Gavin back to Dennis, who smiled at her with a gleam of triumph.

“I’ll ask Grandpa Peter to get the snowcat going,” said Gavin.

Dennis was already shaking his head before Gavin finished. “I brought along our skis. We can get our traditional Christmas Eve run in.” He fixed his gaze on Rowan. “Of course, if Rowan can’t ski…”

“I grew up here—I can ski,” said Rowan, frustration bleeding into her voice. “Though it’s been…a while.”

“Your muscles don’t forget,” said Gavin, smiling down at her. “And I’ll be right there.”

“I don’t have any skis, though,” she said.

“Ahh, such a shame…” began Dennis, but Ana stepped out of the kitchen, cutting him off. The look she shot Dennis suggested there was no love lost between the old woman and her son-in-law.

“She can borrow a pair of mine,” said Ana. “Leave them at the shed in the parking lot. We’ll grab them when we go down for guests later.”

“Excellent,” said Gavin, eyes bright. “We can all go together!”

If he noticed he was the only one excited about that, he didn’t acknowledge it, only got to his feet and prepared for the journey down the mountain.