Dirty Christmas
When the innkeeper announced rooms were full but offered the attic suite for stranded guests, they exchanged a look loaded with possibility.
"We could share," Theo suggested, voice low. "Just to wait out the storm. No pressure."
Lila nodded, heat rising in her cheeks. "I'd like that."
The attic room was small, with a slanted ceiling, a queen bed piled with quilts, and a window overlooking the snow-blanketed market.
They shed coats, the space shrinking the distance. Theo lit a candle, its flicker dancing across his features. "This feels like a dream," he murmured, stepping closer.