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sled from the pile just off the deck and stepped in line. When Wilson hesitated, she grabbed his hand. “The gloves are off, as you say.”
    It wasn’t until she’d positioned herself in the center of the sled that it dawned on her how much of a contact sport this was. Wilson would need to wrap not only his arms, but also his legs around her. Were his arms long enough? Did the thought repel him? She glanced up jean-clad legs, past the leather jacket, all the way to scared-looking eyes. “If you’d rather grab your own sled that’s fine with—”
    Plunk
. The plastic skiff quaked as he sat behind her. She squeezed her thighs, but there was no way she could diminish their girth. His legs overlapped hers. His hands laced over her middle.
    “Ready?” Star appeared beside them. “I’ll give you a push.”
    For a brief, suspended-in-time moment, Willow closed her eyes and let herself feel small in the circle of his arms.
    And then they flew as one down the bank, up the ramp, into the air, and onto the glassy surface of Cedar Creek.
    Sideways.
    The sled stopped. They didn’t. In slow motion it might have been pretty. Wilson’s arms remained clamped at Willow’s waist as they slid on their sides, spoon-fashion, across the ice and into a snowbank. By the time they stopped, his fingers were still laced—this time around her neck. “Are you all right?” she gasped.
    Seconds passed. His fingers didn’t move. She felt a rumble but couldn’t identify it until a gut-level laugh erupted from the man who held her life in his hands. “I’m fine.” He released his hold on her neck and tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look up at the man silhouetted against a moonlit sky. “In fact, I haven’t been this fine in a very long time.” He shifted and helped her sit up. “Ms. Miles, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy being at war with you.”

Chapter 6
    D on’t get all
star
struck, Star.” Willow parked her repaired van in front of the Cultural Center and wrinkled her nose at the girl clinging to the inside handle of the passenger door. “Just have fun with it, honey.”
    “I make mistakes when I get nervous. I’ll squirt him with lead-based paint. I’ll drown him in eraser crumbs. He’ll inhale art gum and die of COPD.” Star gave a sigh worthy of a standing ovation. “He’s just so, so good.”
    “Don’t put him on too high a pedestal. Good is a relative thing. Look, you’d go down the thousand-foot toboggan slide at Whitnall Park blindfolded and not flinch, right?”
    “Yeah. But what does that—”
    “Mr. So So Good was scared to death to get on a little plastic sled in our backyard.”
    “Seriously?” The ever-elusive expression bent the corners of Star’s mouth heavenward. “He was scared?”
    “Terrified. I had to hold his hand the whole way.” The heat sneaking under Willow’s sweater had nothing to do with the vents pointed her way.
    “Yeah. About that. You do know people were laughing at you, right? All cuddled up like sardines at the bottom of the hill. Speaking of
star
struck.”
    Willow cleared her throat. “It’s 5:28.”
    The van door opened, and Star’s laugh escaped on an icy breeze. The wind fluttered the to-do list clamped to the dashboard.
    Star—lesson—5:30
    Clean—WW’s
    Finish order for preschool
    Work on essay for contest
    Update website—add Adirondacks
    Hire somebody!
    The last item was in Crystal’s neat, scrolling cursive. An item Willow would have to ignore—unless she ended up in a lovely well-lit shop of her own with orders flying in faster than she could process them.
    She crossed the first thing off the list and moved on to the second. Tackling Wilson’s kitchen. Their deal was dusting and vacuuming in exchange for art lessons, but if Wilson did anything to crack the pedestal he balanced on, an hour with Star could end up feeling like twelve rounds with Apollo Creed. It would take more than sucking lint off his carpet to get him to stick to his end of