Read Poles Apart for Free Online Page B

snowy surrounds dampened her echo.
She’d heard the stories about Bigfoot, Yeti, The Abominable Snowman—whatever
you want to call him—but she never knew he wore blue snow pants and a red
jacket.
    Sarah reached out and grabbed the
closest thing she could to protect herself, raising the log above her head. “W—who
are you? Wh—what do you want?”
    He held up his hands, eyes wide. “Whoa.
Take it easy.”
    Even in the dim light, she couldn’t miss
the Yeti’s gorgeous smile.
    “Put that down.” He thrust out a gloved
hand, then pulled it back and yanked the glove off. He tried the handshake
again. “Niklas Toivonen. The owner.”
    Sarah blinked then eased the log back
onto the woodpile. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be standing
there.” Especially not filling the entire doorway. Nicely.
    Taking his hand, she greeted him with a
laugh. “Sarah Jones.”
    He chuckled. “I know. Your booking... I
wanted to welcome you, see if you need anything.” He glanced at her hand and
the key dangling from her gloved finger. “I’m interrupting? You’re going
somewhere?”
    “Only to the car to get my suitcase and
groceries.”
    Niklas reached for the key and slid it
from her finger. “Let me help you. Stay here. It’s cold out.”
    “But—”
    He’d already disappeared around the
corner. How did he move so fast?
    Sarah shut the door, keeping the cold outside
where it belonged. She slipped out of her protective clothing and hung
everything on the coat hook beside the door. Her gloves landed on the wooden
staircase, while her boots claimed the corner of the floor beneath her jacket
and snow pants. No sense in keeping all that on for now. She’d ask her landlord
where the little room was and save herself floundering in the dark to find it
later.
    Kneeling beside the fireplace, she
stared through the glass door of the cast-iron box containing the glowing coals.
She’d need to stoke that fire, get more logs onto those coals. Reaching for the
latch, Sarah wrapped her fingers around it. Hot metal seared her skin. With a
loud yell, she pulled back her hand, her fingers instantly seeking the coolness
of her mouth.
    Cold water. She’d seen Hannah shove
Matthew’s hand under cold water when he’d burned his fingers playing with a
candle at dinner last week.
    Inside the kitchen, Sarah filled the
sink and plunged her hand beneath the cool liquid to soothe the throbbing. She
fought back her tears. Some escaped. Ones of frustration, exhaustion, and pain.
By morning her thumb and index finger would be blistered for sure. That was all
she needed. Typing would be difficult.
    The front door banged open.
    “Hellooo.”
    “I—I’m in here.” How long did she need
to keep her fingers under? Hannah had kept Matthew’s hand dunked for several
minutes.
    Niklas and the grocery bags blocked the
entire doorway into the kitchen. Were the openings narrow and low, or was he
really that broad-shouldered and tall?
    His gaze held hers for a moment before
breaking away to her submerged hand. “What happened?” Setting the packets down
in the corner, he scurried to her side.
    Sarah swiped away another stray tear.
“St—stupid me. I tried to open the fireplace without a cloth. Didn’t realize
how hot the handle would be.”
    Taking her hand, he examined her red
fingers.
    The phone number penned on her skin
beckoned. She should call Santa, use a Christmas wish. How many did she get, or
was it only the genie in the lamp who limited his wishes? Don’t let me get
blisters, please.
    Sarah’s gaze drifted from her injuries
to the hands examining hers. They looked...familiar? She stared at his profile.
If he’d only turn and look at her.
    “Have we met before?”
    He glanced up, and then returned his
attention to her hand. “Niklas Toivonen and Sarah Jones? No.”
    Lapland men probably had similar
features. After all, striking blue eyes are common amongst Scandinavians.
Still, those hands, those eyes...
    What about