I dive into his chest, savoring the feel of his hard body against mine and the smell of him—spearmint gum and woodsy soap—as our lips find each other in a welcoming kiss. “My flight’s delayed.”

He curls his arms around me and pulls me tight to him, his bristly hair scratching against my skin as he bends to dip his face into the crook of my neck. He inhales deeply and then lets out a contented sigh. “I know. The airport’s a mess. Tons of people trying to get places for Christmas.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Suddenly, spending our first Christmas together at the dead-animal hotel doesn’t seem so appalling.

“Of course, I’m here. As if I was gonna let you get stuck, alone, on Christmas.”

“So, I’ll fly back with you, then?”

“We’re not going back that way today.” There’s an edge to his voice, one that makes me think the trip here over the mountains was far worse than he’s letting on. And Jonah is fearless when it comes to flying.

A part of me wants to reprimand him—what if he had crashed?—but a bigger part is overwhelmed with emotion that he made the risky trip for me.

“I love you,” I blurt before I can give it too much thought.

Several beats pass before Jonah pulls away, far enough to meet my gaze, a curious look in his.

I hold my breath, suddenly afraid that I’m going to have to add this moment to the top of my growing list of things that have gone terribly wrong so far with this move.

“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to get up the nerve to say it. Especially after you chickened out at the airport.” He brushes an errant strand of hair off my face. “Thought I might have to wait forever.”

My mouth hangs open for a moment. “You knew?”

“You Fletchers never have been good at speakin’ your mind.” A soft, crooked smile curls his lips. “Of course, I knew.”

I roll my eyes even as my cheeks flush. In the dingy Anchorage lodge hallway, being chastised by Jonah for how much like my father I am is not how I was envisioning this moment going. “Well … great.” What else am I supposed to say, especially since he hasn’t echoed the sentiment?

His mouth splits into a perfect, white-toothed grin. “You’re cute when you’re vulnerable.”

My indignation flares. “You know what? I take it back.”

“Nah. You don’t.”

“Yeah, I do. In fact, I think I hate you right now.” I make to pull free from his arms, but they coil tighter, keeping me in place.

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

After a moment of reluctance, I do. His blue eyes are severe as they pin me down. “I can’t remember what it feels like not being in love with you, Calla.”

My pulse pounds in my veins.

He leans in, presses his forehead against mine. “I can’t remember what it’s like to wake up and not have you be the first thing I think about. Every morning, I roll over in bed to check for a message from you. Every night, I go to bed annoyed because you’re not beside me. Because you’re so far away. I need you in my life like I need to fly. Like I need this Alaskan air. More than I need this air.”

“Wow. That’s …” I swallow the lump in my throat, about to float away on a euphoric high from his tender admission. That’s way better than just blurting out “I love you.”

He cups my chin with his palms. “You were made for me. I am madly in love with you, Calla Fletcher.” His mouth catches mine in a deceptively soft kiss that threatens to buckle my knees. It draws a moan from deep within me, the agonizing month-long wait to feel Jonah’s lips against mine finally over.

I grab hold of his forearms for support, my hands tightening over them, reveling in their strength. I ache to feel his corded muscle and smooth skin and soft hair beneath my fingertips again, to feel the weight of his body sinking me into a mattress.

Between us, the hard ridge of his erection presses against my stomach, taunting me.

A throat clears, pulling us apart. A housekeeper smiles sheepishly as she edges past to get to her cart on the other side.

I nod to my open hotel room door behind us. “Maybe we should take this inside?” Because I’m about five seconds away from unfastening his belt buckle, audience be damned.

Jonah takes a step forward, but then stops, shaking his head firmly. “If we want to make it out of here today, we need to go now. That system is movin’ in slow, but it’s comin’.”

I frown. “I thought you said you weren’t flying back today.”

“We’re not, but we’re not staying here.”

“Where are we going, then?”

“To see Santa.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, of course, but—”

“’Kay, then stop talkin’, get ready, and meet me in the lobby. I’ll check you out of your room.” He plants a last, chaste kiss on my lips and strolls away, whistling “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

“But my suitcases—”

“They’re at the front desk,” he hollers over his shoulder, adding in a booming voice, “but I told you already, Barbie, you’re not gonna be wearin’ any clothes for a few days.”

My cheeks burn as I seek out the housekeeper, hovering by her cart with her head down, pretending she didn’t hear that.

And then I rush inside to pack my things.

Chapter Four

“I don’t see Santa or his elves.” I eye the A-frame cabin nestled at the edge of the tree line as Jonah circles our plane over the frozen lake. A narrow trail cuts through the forest leading up to it, the far end connected to another trail that snakes through the sea of tall, thin evergreens. A road, though I don’t know how often it’s been used.

“You just missed him.” Jonah smirks and jabs a thumb toward the last town we passed.

It finally clicks. “The North Pole! Oh my God!” A wave of nostalgia washes over me. I can’t believe I hadn’t clued in already. “My dad always used to tell me he was flying there. I thought it was the coolest thing.” Back when I only knew his face thanks to a picture, when I’d prattle nonstop over the phone and he’d listen patiently.

Jonah’s deep chuckle carries through the headset. “Yeah. Well, it’s not the North Pole, but it’s North Pole, Alaska. Christmas all year round. They’ve got giant candy canes along the main street. We can take the snow machine in tomorrow for somethin’ to do, if you want. It’s not that far.” He points to the expanse of buildings in the distance as a crop of lights ignite in the dusk, ahead of the coming nightfall. “That’s Fairbanks up ahead. It’s the second-largest city in Alaska.”

Jonah wouldn’t divulge any more hints about where we were heading as we loaded my luggage into the passenger seats. I snooped though the cargo area, packed with his black duffel bag, a cooler, a box of dry food, and several jugs of water. I badgered him as we fled the incoming weather system, heading northeast past the frozen plains, over the snowy, sawtooth ridges of the imposing mountain range, far enough that the looming clouds broke apart to allow slivers of sunshine through. Still, he told me nothing, enjoying my frustration while the radio frequency buzzed with chatter from other pilots, citing their coordinates, weather patterns, the odd joke.