The Christmas Sisters

“Alcohol and hypothermia aren’t a good combination.”

She enjoyed their banter, probably more than she should.

Luke’s arrival at Glensay had calmed the restlessness inside her that always seemed to be present these days. It was as if he’d brought part of the outside world with him, quenching some of her thirst for adventure.

Bonnie was bounding in happy circles, tail wagging.

“You’re lucky she is a superstar, or you would have been lying there for a lot longer.”

“I’m supposed to feel grateful that I’m cold and wet?”

“If this was a real avalanche, you’d be falling at her furry paws and pledging lifelong love and allegiance.”

He stamped the snow from his boots. “If this was a real avalanche, I would have been wearing a transceiver and carrying a shovel and probe.”

“That assumes you would have been climbing or skiing with people who knew what to do with a transceiver, a shovel and a probe.”

“Do people volunteer to do this more than once?”

“Yes. We have a team of ‘dogsbodies’ who volunteer during our training exercises.”

“And they’re still alive?”

“Mostly. We don’t often do avalanche training. Sometimes you just get to lie in a soaking wet grassy hole on the side of the mountain.”

“Stop or I’ll never recover from the searing disappointment that comes from knowing I missed that experience.” He had the lean, athletic build of a climber and the rugged looks of a man who spent his life exposed to the elements.

The strength of the attraction had come as a surprise to her.

She was wary of relationships. In a small community like the one she lived in, you couldn’t walk away when a romance ended. There was a strong likelihood you were going to see the person every day. It had happened to her, and she wasn’t in a hurry to repeat the experience.

Rory called out to them. “Everything okay over there?”

Posy turned her head. “I think the victim has hypothermia.”

“Victim?” Luke arched an eyebrow. “Less of the ‘victim,’ thank you. It’s not how I see myself.” He bent to stroke Bonnie. “You’re the only girl for me. If I really had been buried in that avalanche and you rescued me, I’d have to marry you.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Golden Retriever. I predict many years of happiness.” Before Posy could dodge, Luke stuffed a handful of snow down the neck of her jacket.

Ice trickled over her skin and she gasped. “That’s immature.”

“But satisfying. And now you’re cold, too, which levels the playing field. We should warm each other. Hot shower. Log fire. Bottle of red wine.”

It would be easy enough to do because technically they lived under the same roof.

On their land was a barn, complete with hayloft. Her parents had cleverly converted it into two properties. Posy lived in the loft, which had sloping ceilings and views of the stars. The barn was offered as a rental. It was half a mile from Glensay Lodge, where her parents lived, and bordered by pine and birch woodland. A short walk led you to the deep loch, spring fed and stocked with brown trout.

Its isolation wasn’t for everyone, and in the summer the occupants were mostly couples seeking a romantic week in the wild Highlands. It was perfect for cycling, bird-watching, hiking and loch swimming, but the biggest draw was its proximity to big mountains. In the winter the barn was often booked by climbers.

Short rentals meant more work for Posy. With frequent changeovers, she was always cleaning, changing beds and doing laundry, so she’d been thrilled when Luke Whittaker had booked it for four months with an option to extend.

He was a climber and writer. He needed peace and quiet to finish a book, and a base that would allow him to climb. The barn offered opportunities for both.

Occasionally, when she’d arrived home late after a training session, Posy had seen his lights burning, so she already knew Luke Whittaker was a night owl.

She also knew he was good with animals. Like now, for instance, when he was sending Bonnie into ecstasy with a stomach rub.

He glanced up at her. “I’m assuming Bonnie passed the test?”