We pull in to park and the farm is buzzing with people ready to take advantage of the recent snows. One side of the hill has rows of lavender bushes all wrapped up in burlap like butterflies waiting to break out of their chrysalises. The other side is full of families racing down the hill or making the climb back up to dash down again. Bursts of laughter and shouts of excitement punctuate the snow-filled air.
A small building that looks like an ornately decorated gingerbread house that has come to life sits at the top of the hill. Majestic pine trees tower over it and their branches create a protected nook with benches and tables. Hanging fairy lights are just beginning to twinkle against the evening sky. I couldn’t ask for a more perfectly charming setting.
Danny is wearing his sherpa-lined jacket and the flaps on his fake-fur-lined trapper hat flutter in the wind as he walks away from the van after parking. At the auction it was almost entertaining to watch him fight the urge to let happen whatever needs to happen between us happen. Of course, we were there for the bidding so I had to keep part of my attention on work. But with the snow falling and evening beginning to create a soft glow over everything, work is over. It’s time to play.
We walk over to the window of the snack shack to order and a teenager with bright blue hair asks, “What can I get you?” They are wearing a red-and-white-striped leotard under a chunky red sweater vest with a They, Them, Theirs pin.
“We’ll have two hot chocolates—” I look up at the hand-painted menu that hangs above the hut “—and two Peppermint Kisses,” I say and then turn to Danny. “Kisses?” I ask. “That is what you said you wanted? A kiss, right?”
“Yes,” Danny says and I can see my relentless flirting is breaking him down. I never thought this could be so much fun.
I pay and grab us a table as Danny waits for the order. The cold air is making his round cheeks ruddy and giving his whole face this glow that makes me want to run over there and kiss him so badly I can barely contain myself. I’ve never acted like this before in my life. I can’t even say I’ve ever really flirted let alone leaned into it with the weight of the spruces that tower over us. I can’t help it. I watch him chatting at the counter. He says something that makes the teenager laugh and they both smile. Danny makes every single person he meets feel important. It’s an uncanny talent with which I am becoming deeply enamored.
He brings over a tray with our order and we sit next to each other watching the sledders as we sip our hot chocolate. “I guess you didn’t go sledding growing up in Texas,” I say. I want to know so much more about him, but I don’t want to rush things. This is a good place to linger.
“No, but I used to love the Chilly Willy cartoons. He was this sassy little penguin who slid around on ice roller coasters and made everyone laugh. I have a Chilly Willy cookie jar but I keep it at home. I love it too much to sell.” Danny’s smile is radiant like the stars that are beginning to twinkle in the lavender sky.
“You really love the things you collect, don’t you? I mean, more than love. They make you happy.” I think about when he’s straightening up his collection of matchbox cars. He goes over each one so carefully. I’m careful with my things too but it comes out of reverence more than joy.
“Of course. I only collect the pieces that make me happy and I know a lot of them are throwaway things like fast food stuff and cartoon cereal characters but my dad worked a lot. My mom had other kids to take care of. A lot of my happy memories are focused around TV shows and junk food. That stuff made me feel normal. I guess when I see those things they bring me joy. Maybe they aren’t traditionally valuable but they make me happy, so they are to me.”
It’s time for me to put some steam on the situation. I look him in the eyes as intensely as I can and say softly, “That’s really a wonderful way to look at it. The things that make us happy can be beautiful. Very beautiful.” I wonder if I am pushing it too far. I stay focused on his eyes and Danny returns my gaze. His eyes are not just looking at mine, they’re connecting with mine. But it becomes too much for him and he breaks the spell.
“Did you go sledding in New Jersey? You got snow there even though it was by the ocean, right?”
“Sometimes,” I say releasing my intense gaze and allowing the evening to have peaks and valleys. “But it was really flat. There weren’t hills like this one. Look at that kid in the green.” I point to a boy flying down the hill with only a wooden sled between his belly and the slick surface.
“It looks like a lot of fun,” Danny says.
“I was just about to say that it looks terrifying,” I say laughing. We have such different ways of seeing the world. I’m learning to appreciate seeing with his eyes. The fact that they are always twinkling topaz and filled with a positive energy doesn’t hurt. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and I take a sip of mine.
“Are you ready for your Kiss?” I ask knowing exactly what I’m doing.
He is startled for a second and then looks at the cookie I have in my hand. He doesn’t say anything. He tilts his head up and I feel like maybe something inside him is changing. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and he gets a hot chocolate mustache over his regular scruff. Without thinking I go to wipe it away and brush my fingers just above his lips. It’s a bold move but I’m ready to give this a try.
“Let’s do it,” he says and I sense a shift. I think the moment has finally arrived. I’m expecting him to close his eyes and put his lips on mine but instead he grabs the tray and brings it back to the person who served us and then heads back to the van.
Too much? I should never have touched him on his face in such an intimate way. I scared him off again. Why did I do something so bold? It’s not like me. I trail behind him and start my apology, “Danny, I’m sorry...” But he has gotten too far ahead of me to hear. He’s already back at the van and ready, I assume, to go home. But instead of getting in the front of the van he opens the back door and starts rearranging what we have inside. It looks like he’s trying to pull something out.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
His thick arms reach into the van and struggle with the stuck object but it quickly gives to his strength. “I’m getting this,” he says and pulls out the long vintage toboggan that he purchased earlier at the rummage sale. “You wanna?”
I have to admit I’m totally confused. I can’t predict anything this guy is about to do. I guess that’s part of what makes him so attractive to me. I’m a Swiss clock and he’s a slot machine.
“We aren’t kids,” I say defaulting to my usual guarded attitude. Why do I always do that? Why do I always shut down any experience that might force me to engage? At least when I do it around Danny I’m aware of it.
“So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t act like kids. Sometimes.”
He’s got a point, but I can’t stop my mind from generating excuses. “I’m wearing a blazer!” I say unable to imagine tumbling down the hill on a thin piece of wood.
“So what? I’m assuming you sleep in that blazer,” he says those dark gold and brown eyes in hypersparkle mode.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease back. Why not?
“I just might,” he says and that makes me smile. I knew something shifted and that confirms it. He’s ready.
“Fine,” I say showing him that sometimes I can be crazy and impulsive like him. “Let’s try this out.”
“I call back seat,” I say and Prescott grabs the toboggan and starts running with it to over where the sledders are gathered. I watch him bouncing along toward the hill. I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s gorgeous and attentive and engaged with me on a level that penetrates through my entire being. Resisting him is completely futile. Even a Naboo starfighter’s deflection shield deteriorates at the deepest levels of hyperspace.
We find a spot to launch where the flatness ends and the decline begins. Prescott takes a seat, grabbing the curved wooden front. “How do I steer this thing?”
“I have no idea.”
I look down and realize that this ride means I’m going to have to wrap my arms and legs around Prescott. I’ve gone this far. I might as well take the next step.
He looks back at me. “Hop on.”
I sit down and tentatively put my legs over his. Then he cups his hands under my ankles and even though the snow is making every extremity on my body feel a chill, being connected to Prescott in this way gives me a warmth deeper than any sweater could provide. I put my arms around his waist, as is custom in sledding from what I’ve seen. He turns his head back to me and I see a smile on his face. He’s holding my legs and I’m holding his waist. It feels so right and so perfect. I look down at the hill that looks much steeper than it did from the benches and have second thoughts about going down. I just want to stay holding him like this. I think about going in for my kiss but before I can he says, “Hold on.”
“Prescott maybe we should think this through,” I say wondering if two grown men should be sledding down an icy hill.
“Look who’s the cautious one now? Not a chance, Danny. On the count of three.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. The winter sun has set. A pink-lavender glow from the west shares the sky with stars in the east. I don’t want this perfect moment to end.
“One, two...” And before getting to three he lets go of my ankles and uses his hands to push us off the lip of the hill so the toboggan tips down and the weight of our bodies forces us speeding toward the bottom. I hold on to Prescott by squeezing my arms more tightly around his waist. He moves his hands to my arms and I feel a sudden rush that is as intense as the wind, ice and snow that swoosh past us. The hill is a tangled racecourse of kids and families but at this moment it feels like we are the only two people in the world.
“Watch out!” I scream when I see we’re heading toward a massive pine tree just up ahead on the left.
“I can’t steer,” Prescott yells trying to twist the lip of the toboggan like it’s the wheel of a ship.
“Lean right,” I yell and then grab him even tighter and push both of us to the right. But he is lighter than I expect and I am heavier than I think so I pull us both so hard that we tumble off together but the toboggan continues down the hill passengerless.
We don’t let go of each other. We roll toward the side of the hill away from everyone and watch the toboggan run smack into the tree. We both laugh so hard that we lean back and lie on the snow. I’m still holding Prescott and he turns so that we are facing each other. His warm breath makes a small cloud in front of mine. His cheeks are red from the cold and even though his slightly chapped but extremely beautiful lips are still closed his eyes continue to laugh. There is a calm silence between us. He smiles and puts his hand on my cheek so softly that for a second I think the snow has started falling again.
I know this might be a mistake. I know he might break my heart and I might not be ready for it. I know this is complicated. But in the moment it feels simple, hopeful and right.
Faster than our sled careened down the hill I move my lips to his. I can’t think in the moment or I know I will stop myself. Once I meet the deep warmth and delicious wetness of his lips all thinking stops. It’s just his lips, my lips and our bodies pressed against each other on the cold snow, which I imagine is a puddle underneath us considering how hot the kiss is. Last time we only just began letting our tongues journey wherever they wanted. This time there is no passport control. We both surrender in the same moment and take each other in through our mouths. I turn my head and he turns his and we move without hesitation from kissing to making out. Luckily we have rolled far enough away from the hill that we are in a secluded-enough spot to enjoy the make out session. My hands move from his waist to just inside his jacket. There are still too many layers of clothes between my fingers and his chest but for the moment it will have to do.
“Are you okay with this?” Prescott asks me without pausing. The words come out sort of distorted since he breathes them into my open mouth and tongue but I understand what he’s saying.
“Yes, yes,” I say, assuming the panting is showing him how turned on I am right now. “I’m sure this time. I am.” I wonder if he’s thinking I might run away again, but this time I’m staying right where I am. “I’m sorry about the other night. Very sorry. I wasn’t ready. I was...”
“Shh,” Prescott says putting his finger to my lips. “I understand.” He removes his finger and replaces it with his lips and our smooches grow hotter and deeper.
I love feeling connected to him like this, lying next to him and feeling the snow fall and melt on us as we kiss. He nuzzles his nose against my neck and then looks up at me revealing a big smile with a small secret lurking beneath it.
“What?” I ask.
“You smell good, Danielek. I smell mint on you, a lot of mint right now.”
Mint? I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I’m assuming it’s the peppermint cookie when...
Boom!
For a second I’m seeing stars. Not from the passion but from the sled that has just careened into us.
“Dad, I told you we were gonna crash. That was amazing. Let’s do it again,” Jules, Tack’s kid, says as they grab their sled ready for another run. Tack and Vince get up from the ground and brush snow off their pants.
“Well, look who we ran into. Literally,” Tack says with his usual devilish grin.
“Sorry about that, guys,” Vince says sincerely. “Tack, I told you to lean the other way,” he says, knowing that his fiancé loves to stir the pot.
“Oh, did you?” he asks with mock innocence.
“Dad, come on,” Jules says tugging at his hand.
“Nice to see you. Dinner next Monday night? The inn is closed so just upstairs at our place. Please join us?” Vince asks calmly and politely.
“Unless you two are at the intimate candlelight dinner for two stage still?” Tack grabs the sled from Jules and runs up the hill effortlessly. Vince grabs Jules and puts them on his back and follows Tack up the hill with Jules piggyback.
We are alone again in the snow and lying on our backs. All traces of the sun are gone now and a purple-blue ocean appears above us.
Prescott pops up. “That’s it,” he says with an unfamiliar enthusiasm in his voice.
“What’s it?” I ask sitting up mostly because I want to see his beautiful face.
“The candlelight dinner stage. We don’t want to gloss over that. I mean we have to follow the rules,” he says. I love this playful side of him. I know how reserved he is usually so seeing him act sort of silly like this makes me think I am getting to see a side of him that he doesn’t share with everybody and it makes me feel special.
“Yes, I don’t want the romance police to show up and charge us with skipping a step,” I say just as playfully as him.
“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow night. Candlelight dinner at my place. I’ll file all the paperwork with the authorities,” he says and then lies back down staring up at the sky.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say and lie down also.
The storm has passed and there isn’t a cloud above us. The stars seem brighter and the sky darker. The crowds on the hill have thinned and a deep but wonderful quiet has fallen over the hill. I can hear Prescott breathing and when I move my eyes to the side I see a small cloud of air just above his mouth. I also see that his eyes are not looking straight up but out to the side at me. As soon as he sees that I caught him looking at me he moves his eyes back to the stars. I move mine back as well but I take my hand and inch it toward his. I get closer and closer until I sense his hand is next to mine, then I put my hand over his upward-facing palm. As soon as I do he moves his fingers to clasp mine and just like that we are on the side of a snow-covered hill under a star-filled cloudless sky holding hands. I don’t want to let go of him until spring. I rest my head on his chest and for a second I think I smell it too. Mint.