Page 118 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Where to?” he asks.

The other two are coming down the stairs, big grins on their faces.

“Downtown,” I decide on a whim. “We’ll go look at the displays.”

It’s a short walk, and there’s plenty to look at on the way. I snap a few pictures before we even get there. There’s a massive snowman in the yard of a small, run-down house down the block, a snowman with arms made of juniper branches that make him look like he has little wings. I crouch down, taking the photo from the bottom so it looks like he’s flying.

“That’s creative,” Hunter says.

“Creativity built from necessity,” Beau points out. “Do you see any other kinds of branches around here?”

Emmett grunts. I grin at them and keep walking. We reach downtown and join a small crowd, other families out doing the same thing, some of them wearing adorable matching outfits. There’s a family that looks like it stepped out of a Macy’s ad, all reds and greens and plaid. Here I am, my tiny self in my gray coat and mistletoe headband, followed by three hulking men in flannels, headbands, and a Santa hat. I’m walking in front, my camera at the ready. We get our fair share of strange looks, but I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t make me want to shrink or pretend that we aren’t together. A few months ago, I would have. A few months ago, I would have crossed the street to avoid being seen with one man, let alone three. But that was a different Josie. This one looks over her shoulder at her entourage and grins.

We spend hours walking around downtown, finding all the hidden gems of Christmas decorations. One shop has a whole animatronic Santa’s sleigh hanging up in the window, with Santa waving and the reindeer kicking their feet. I wait for the perfect moment and get the shot I was wanting. There’s another display across the street, and I grab Hunter’s hand and make a run for it, since it’s not like there’s a whole lot of traffic on Christmas day.

I get a thousand beautiful pictures, and the guys happily trail after me no matter where I go. When I struggle to get a good shot of a display high up on a storefront, Emmett picks me up and puts me on his shoulder. I get the shot. When he puts me down, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. He beams that pleased, surprised smile.

We turn a corner and I stop dead. There’s a little church at the end of the block, nothing fancy, white clapboard with a simple steeple. Someone has wrapped the whole thing in a single strand of warm white lights, and the snow on the roof is catching the glow and throwing it back soft and golden. The steeple cuts into a sky that’s gone deep blue, not quite dark, not quite light, that perfect in-between that lasts about ten minutes if you’re lucky. There’s a wreath on the red door, and the light from inside is spilling through the windows in long amber rectangles across the snow.

I drop to one knee in the slush without thinking about it, angling the camera up so the steeple stretches toward the sky. I wait. A gust of wind sends a little cascade of snow off the roof, and the particles catch the light like gold dust falling through the air. I take the shot.

Nobody says anything behind me. When I stand up, my knee is soaked and freezing and I don’t care at all. I look at the preview on my camera screen and my breath catches. It’s one of those shots. The kind that makes you feel something even in a two-inch display.

“That’s the one,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

“Let me see,” Beau says. I tilt the screen toward him and he studies it for a long moment.

“That’s really beautiful.” He says it simply, the way he says everything, and it means more than a paragraph of praise from anyone else.

The day wears on and the sky goes fully dark, lending itself as a striking background to some of the more elaborate lighting displays. Picture after picture, block after block, and the cold starts to seep through my shoes. I make a couple of left turns and we head back the way we came, just a couple of blocks over. I find plenty to take pictures of, but soon I’m shivering too much to get a good shot.

“You’re cold,” Emmett says.

“But they’re so pretty!”

“But you’re cold,” Beau reiterates.

“Come on, let’s head back,” Hunter says with that coaxing smile of his. “The lights will still be up tomorrow if you really want to come back.”

I know they’re right. I keep snapping pictures, but I let them lead me along a little faster in the direction of home. Back at the apartment, I get out of my cold coat and soaked pants and shoes. Beau brings me the blanket from the couch and wraps it around my shoulders. Hunter goes into the kitchen and makes some orange spice tea that smells how I imagine Santa’s sleigh would smell. Emmett wraps his arm around me, guiding me to the couch, then sits beside me and pulls me into him when we sit down. I’m so cozy, warm, and cared for that I can’t imagine a better end to this wonderful day. Hunter brings me a cup of tea, smiling at me mischievously.

I give him a suspicious look and glance at the tea. “What? What did you do, spike it?”

“No,” he says, blinking innocently. “Nothing of the kind.”

Beau snorts. I narrow my eyes, looking between the two of them.

“It’s something,” I say.

Emmett squeezes me. “You’re right. It is something. We got you something.”

“What?” I push away and look up at him. “What do you mean, you got me something?”

“Presents,” Beau says, his ears turning red. “We got you presents.”

I’m shocked. They don’t do presents. They never do presents, they told me so themselves. Something expands in my chest, pressing on my throat.

“When did you do that?” I whisper.