The Holiday Swap(26)

“Okay, thanks,” Sharon said, sounding disappointed.

Charlie hung up with Sharon and immediately called her sister, but it went to voicemail. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d had nothing to eat since the morning rush had ended. Food held no appeal, not when she couldn’t smell or taste it, but she had to eat. She’d grab a date square and take a walk—some fresh air might help clear her head. Charlie put on her coat and hat, remembering her gloves at the last minute when she glanced out the bakery’s window and saw it was snowing gently.

She’d forgotten how picturesque Starlight Peak was, especially when it snowed. The building and storefronts were reminiscent of a German Christmas market, with twinkling lights lining peaked roofs and candles glowing in most windows. Gingerbread-style homes stretched along lamplit streets, and the cobblestoned town square was magical this time of year.

Charlie sat on a bench facing the square’s outdoor skating rink, the chilly air refreshing. Then her stomach growled and she realized she had forgotten the square back at the bakery. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she willed her hunger away.

“Cass?” Charlie’s eyes popped open.

Oh. It was the hot firefighter. “Hi . . . Jake.” She was relieved when his name came to her. “What brings you out here tonight?”

He pointed to the other end of the rink, smiling. “She does.”

It was then Charlie saw the dog—a black Lab, who was running circles around the outdoor rink, giving happy little barks at every corner she turned.

“Bonnie!” Jake called. The dog stopped immediately, ears perked. “Come!” Bonnie ran toward them faster than Charlie would have thought possible, given she was slightly overweight, and stopped right in front of Jake. She dutifully sat at his feet, her long pink tongue hanging out, her wagging tail making an angel’s wing in the snow. Jake pulled something out of his pocket and broke it in half, offering it to the dog. She sniffed it eagerly, then nudged his hand with her nose, refusing to take the treat.

Jake laughed. “I know, girl. These treats suck,” he said. “But we needed the low-cal ones, remember?” He exaggerated his whisper, putting his other hand up to pretend to shield this fact from their audience: Charlie.

Bonnie waited a second longer, then gingerly took the treat out of Jake’s hand and happily chomped down.

“She’s adorable,” Charlie said, taking off one glove and reaching out to pet Bonnie’s head. “Does she—”

But Charlie didn’t get her question out because at that moment Bonnie stole Charlie’s glove and started running around the ice rink with it in her mouth, as though she’d found the best treasure.

“Bonnie!” Jake shouted. Then to Charlie, “I’m sorry. She’s a work in progress. Gloves and socks are her catnip.” He called for the dog again, this time with more authority. It worked, and Bonnie reluctantly carried back the glove, which she dropped at Jake’s feet when asked. He bent down to retrieve it and grimaced. “It’s a bit . . . soggy.”

Charlie laughed, then stood up to take the glove from him. “Don’t worry,” she began. “I can just wash—” Suddenly it felt as though the ground had fallen out from under Charlie’s feet, like she herself flipped upside down. Completely off-balance, she stumbled. If not for Jake’s quick reflexes, she would have crumpled to the ground.

Jake caught Charlie under her arms, supporting her weight. “Here, sit down.” He helped her back to the bench, then crouched in front of her, concern etched on his face.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Charlie said, trying to laugh it off. But she was still dizzy and was having trouble focusing on his face.

Jake’s hand was on the back of her neck, gently pushing her forward. “Put your head between your knees,” he said. She did. She was mortified that she’d almost passed out in the town square but also felt too ill to really care. “Take some deep breaths.” Again, she complied.

A minute later the dizziness began to recede. Apparently I need to take this whole concussion thing more seriously . . . She slowly sat back up and shivered slightly, although she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold air or from Jake’s closeness. Bonnie licked Charlie’s bare hand. Jake chastised the dog, but Charlie smiled. “It’s okay. She’s a good girl.”

“She does that when she’s worried about someone,” Jake said, and Charlie scratched Bonnie behind her ears.

“I’m fine now,” she said to Bonnie, then looked over at Jake. “I’m okay, really. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today, and it was a really busy day. I just got a bit light-headed. Low blood sugar, I guess. Thank you, though. I’m glad you were here.”

“Me, too,” Jake said. “Do you feel like you can stand up now?”

“I think so.”

He held her arms firmly as she stood, slowly, because while she felt better she wasn’t convinced the wave of dizziness wouldn’t return.

“Okay?” he asked, watching her closely.

“Yes,” she replied, bending to retrieve her other glove, which had fallen when Jake caught her.

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, picking it up. He shook off the dusting of snow. As he did, Charlie felt a particular flutter in her stomach—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.