A Stranger's Warmth
1844 Words
Claire's POV
The cold had settled into my bones, each breath sharp and shallow as it slipped through my chattering teeth. I huddled closer to myself on the bench, hoping the soft glow of the Christmas tree might magically warm me up. Snow clung to my coat, my hair, my suitcase—it felt like the universe had decided to bury me here, one frozen flake at a time.
My fingers were so stiff I barely noticed the sound of boots crunching in the snow. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, but then a deep, steady voice broke through the frosty silence.
“Are you alright?”
I looked up, startled, and found myself staring into the most piercing set of green eyes I’d ever seen. But it wasn’t just his eyes. His face looked like it belonged on the cover of some high-end magazine—strong jawline, a perfectly straight nose, and cheekbones that could probably cut through the ice around me. His dark hair peeked out from beneath a knitted beanie, a few strands brushing his forehead in a way that seemed both effortless and annoyingly attractive.
For a moment, I forgot I was freezing.
He stood a few steps away, a toolbox in one hand and a concerned crease in his brow. He was tall—muscular, broad-shouldered, with an easy confidence that made him seem like he could weather anything, including the freezing cold. Meanwhile, I was a mess, my teeth clattering like castanets.
“Do I look alright?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, accompanied by a puff of visible breath.
His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “Not particularly.”
I glared at him, but my attention was pulled to the toolbox in his hand. It was beautifully crafted, carved with intricate swirls and floral patterns that caught the faint glow of the tree lights.
“Pretty,” I whispered without thinking.
“What?” His head tilted slightly.
I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face despite the cold. “The... the carvings. On your toolbox. It’s pretty.”
His brow softened, and I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch again, but this time it wasn’t annoyance. “Thanks. I made it.”
Of course, he did. Because men who look like this always turn out to be annoyingly talented.
“You’ll freeze out here,” he said, his tone firm now. “Do you have a place to stay?”
I shook my head, trying to ignore the growing ache in my chest from the cold—or from something else entirely. “No. The inns are all booked.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Come with me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“My cabin’s just outside the village,” he explained, as if that wasn’t a wildly insane thing to say to a stranger. “It’s warm, and there’s a couch you can sleep on.”
“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” My teeth were still chattering, which made me sound less defiant than I wanted.
“Ask Mrs. Hargrove.” He gestured toward the inn across the street. “She knows me. Go on, I’ll wait.”
My body was frozen in every way possible—half from the cold, half from disbelief. But before I could muster a response, the innkeeper herself emerged from the doorway, pulling a shawl tight around her shoulders.
“Claire! Oh, thank goodness Ethan found you,” she called out. “He’s a good man, dear. You’ll be safe with him.”
Ethan. So, that was his name.
I hesitated for another moment, the chill nipping at my resolve. My suitcase felt heavier by the second, and the idea of dragging it aimlessly through the snow was less appealing than ever.
I swallowed my hesitation and sighed. "Alright, but only for three days." He nodded, his voice firm and unyielding. "Three days. Let's go."
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The snow crunched loudly beneath our boots as Ethan led the way out of the village. I struggled to keep up, dragging my suitcase behind me, though he slowed his pace when he noticed my struggle.
“This thing’s heavy,” he said, glancing at my suitcase.
“It’s got everything I need in it,” I shot back, hugging it tighter.
“Everything?”
“Clothes. Essentials. My camera.”
His only response was a low hum, like he wasn’t convinced.
When we finally reached the edge of the woods, the cabin came into view. It was small, with soft golden light spilling out of the windows and smoke curling from the chimney.
“Wow,” I murmured, momentarily forgetting the cold.
”What?” Ethan asked, glancing back.
“It’s just... cozy. Like it belongs in a storybook.”
That earned me a small smile, and something about it made my stomach flip. “Come on,” he said.
Inside, the warmth hit me like a tidal wave. I exhaled a shaky breath, my teeth finally stopping their relentless clattering.
The cabin was just as charming inside as it was outside. The wooden walls seemed to glow in the firelight, and a rocking chair sat by the hearth, its carvings matching the patterns on Ethan’s toolbox. The couch looked inviting, a thick brown blanket draped over one arm.
“Make yourself at home,” Ethan said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door.
I walked over to the couch, running my fingers along the soft fabric. “It’s beautiful,” I said, half to myself.
He didn’t respond, busying himself with the fire.
“You built this place, didn’t you?” I asked, turning to face him.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Took a while, but it’s home.”
My gaze drifted back to the rocking chair. “What about that? Did you make it too?”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Yeah. But don’t sit in it.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Why not?”
“Just don’t,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As I settled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over my legs, Ethan suddenly appeared holding a piece of paper. He cleared his throat, looking entirely too serious.
“What’s that?” I asked, frowning.
“House rules,” he said, unfolding the paper.
“Rules?”
“Yes. Rule one: Don’t touch the rocking chair.”
“Obviously.”
“Rule two: Clean up after yourself.”
“Reasonable.”
“Rule three: No wandering around the woods alone.”
I couldn't help but snicker, a playful grin tugging at my lips. “You don't have to tell me twice, anything else?”
“That’s it. Follow the rules, and we’ll be fine.”
“Got it.”
He handed me a pen. "Just sign at the bottom."
I took the pen, signed my name without thinking twice, and handed it back to him. He signed his own name below mine with a fluid motion, the only sound in the room being the crackle of the fire.
"There," he said with a small nod, folding the paper and tucking it away into a drawer. "Now you’re all set."
Ethan set his toolbox down beside the door, his gaze flickering back to me. “So, you’re here for the tree, huh?” He paused, then added, “Coming in on Christmas Eve. Don’t you have a family to spend it with?”
“I do but my boss apparently thought a trip to Silverwood to chase down the magic of a Christmas tree was the perfect holiday plan for me. So here I am.”
Ethan's lips twitched, fighting the faintest smile, and i couldn't help but notice how warm it me feel, like butterlies or a volcano erupting in my tummy...that's weird. “But hey, the tree’s pretty legendary, so maybe it’ll be worth it.”
Ethan gave a small nod, though his gaze softened and he almost looked concerned for me “Sounds like a tough boss,” he said, his tone warm but tinged with curiosity. “You get used to it. Besides, if I really wanted to stay home, I’d have to deal with my overbearing aunt, who thinks every Christmas should come with a full buffet and a thousand questions about my love life.”
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The lights were off now, leaving the cabin bathed in the soft, flickering glow from the fire. The warmth of the room wrapped around me like a comforting embrace, and I sank further into the plush cushion beneath my head. I wasn’t sure when I had shifted, but now I was lying on the couch, my head resting against a soft pillow—something that felt so cozy and secure, it was hard to believe it had only been hours since I was out there in the snow, shivering.
I pulled the thick blanket tighter around me, the soft fabric soothing against my cold skin. As I lay there in the quiet, the weight of the day finally hit me. I could feel the exhaustion creeping in, and for the first time today, I allowed myself to relax. The fire crackled softly in the corner, the wood scent filling the air, and I couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh, content with how the evening had turned out.
Tomorrow, I had a plan. I would start by speaking to the villagers about the tree, get a feel for what everyone thought of it. I’d interview anyone who might know something, dive into the rumors, the history—anything I could get to add to my story. I knew there was more to this tree than met the eye, and if I could piece it all together, it would be the feature that could make my career.
Maybe I’d even stop by the inn again, talk to the innkeeper, see if there were any other locals who might know something interesting. I had three days, but I wasn’t going to waste a minute of them. Tomorrow was going to be full of research, and I was ready to dive in.
But for now, all I could do was relax.
With the fire casting a warm glow around the room, I snuggled deeper into the blanket, my mind buzzing with plans for the coming days. Christmas Eve. It wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured it, but in this moment, it felt like exactly what I needed. I could handle the interviews, the work. That’s what I came here for, after all.
As I let the warmth of the fire lull me into a more peaceful state, I couldn’t help but think about how nice it was to finally have a break. It felt like a luxury I didn’t get often.
I closed my eyes, the sound of the crackling fire fading as I drifted off, thoughts of tomorrow mixing with the quiet peace of the night.
- Writer
