Arielle North had never walked through snow without slipping at least three times, spraining one ankle, and—on two memorable occasions—accidentally kicking a toddler’s snowman in the face.
So when Noah Reed offered her his hand and said, “Come on, walk with me,” she hesitated like he’d invited her to stroll across a frozen minefield.
“It’s just snow,” he said, shaking his head, amused.
“Snow has a personal vendetta against me,” she replied. “It’s been trying to kill me since birth.”
Noah laughed, that warm, rumbling sound that made the cold seem less sharp. “You’re dramatic.”
“And you’re dangerously optimistic,” she shot back.
But she still took his hand.
The holiday market behind them glowed with warm lights and the buzz of laughter. Now they stepped into the quieter street where t
