The Snuggle Is Real (A Cozy AF Christmas 2)

I shake my head, run a hand over my jaw. “No. They’ve all passed. I’m all that’s left of the Lancasters.”

She reaches out, placing a hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Whitaker. That’s horrible.”

“What about you? You’re here, alone, on Christmas Eve. Where is your family?”

She pulls her hand back, and I regret asking the question because I’d much rather her be touching me.

“There’s nothing left of them, either…” Her words trail off and I see sorrow in her eyes. It breaks my heart because it’s Christmas — it should be a happy time. And I know my showing up ruined her plans. I feel stuck — I don’t want to intrude on what she has created for herself in my cabin, but still, this place is mine.

“I can pack my things,” she says. “I can…”

“I’m not gonna press you for answers, for an explanation,” I say. “No one would be staying in a stranger’s home unless they felt they were between a rock and a hard place. You can stay here, we can figure this all out later. But it’s Christmas, and I have a dinner to cook.”

“Why are you being kind to me?” she asks, sincerity in her eyes, her hands trembling as she presses them to her heart.

I step toward her, wanting her to believe I am no threat to her safety. In fact, I’m the opposite of a threat. “No one wants to be alone on Christmas.”

“Yet you came to the woods by yourself, to a cabin that’s been empty for a real long time. It seems you were looking to be alone,” she says, twisting her lips, searching my eyes for the truth.

“I needed out of the city. Away from the people I know there. I needed to breathe. Fresh air and a new view. I don’t mind your company, just everyone else’s.”

“But you don’t even know me,” she says, pressing me on my reasoning. “I could be the epitome of everything you were trying to avoid.”

I look at Cozy in her borrowed sweater. She’s set the scene for the most perfect Christmas. Wasn’t I just wishing for books by the fire and something warm to drink? “I have a feeling a woman who made this cabin look like this, who appreciates the nostalgia of a holiday that my grandmother so dearly loved, is someone special.”

“Your grandma’s ornaments are all so beautiful. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.”

“That sounds right,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. “My parents passed a little over a year ago and I haven’t been up here since. It felt too depressing, too many memories.”

She follows me into the kitchen. “And I’ve opened them all up. I’m sorry, again, I really am.”

“It’s okay, it’s actually pretty nice. It’s like I’m really coming home for Christmas.” I open the fridge and find it empty. On the counter is a small collection of boxed and canned food. I tense, realizing this woman must not have any money, her food supply is so low, and what she has been eating are hardly meals. She follows my gaze, and I’m guessing she’s reading the situation through my eyes.

“I don’t have much. This is all I have left,” she says, stepping toward her meager pantry. She blinks back tears. “I was in trouble, Whitaker. I had to leave where I’d been living and… I know this was wrong of me.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” I tell her honestly. It pains me to see her so upset. She looks like a Christmas angel, and I want her to feel my concern, my care. I feel an overwhelming need to protect her, to keep her safe. “I’m glad you found my cabin when you needed it. Now, no more apologizing. I have a feast to cook.”

She smiles. “You brought food?”

“All the fixings.”

“Your grandma has a recipe box with her Christmas menu in it.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I’m not embarrassed to admit I memorized it.”

“You did?” I step toward her, wanting to fast-forward time, wishing we were close enough that I could wrap my arms around her narrow waist. That I could kiss her without scaring her away. She’s been hurt, that much is clear. And I decide then and there to make this Christmas the most wonderful time of Cozy’s year.Chapter SixCozetteWhitaker is not like any man I’ve ever met before. Gentle, kind, intelligent. Did I mention gentle?

We stand in the kitchen and I feel his eyes on mine, taking me in. Usually around men I get scared, tense, preparing myself to be put down, hit, or worse. But I don’t feel threatened by Whitaker. I feel easy, like I can let my shoulders relax. Like my heart can stop pounding so hard.

Except, maybe not. Because Whitaker surprises me by taking my hand and holding it in his. “I’m glad we are spending Christmas together, Cozy. I mean it. I was just telling my buddy Bran how I needed a change of scenery, but maybe it wasn’t the scenery I was needing. Maybe it was meeting you.”