The one...right there, a little to the right.... Perfect.” Knox glanced down at Trudie from where he was perched in a spruce tree, fetching the perfect branch for her. She’d gone with him to the bison ranch earlier. Now he was helping her collect the “materials” for her floral decorations. Her blue-and-green striped knit cap bore a dusting of snow. In the waning light, her cheeks were rosy. He could swear the sun was brighter, the snow whiter, and the air sweeter today than it had been in a really long time. And he’d been excruciatingly aware of her all day—the way her eyes sparkled, her scent, her warmth. It was as if he was in the grips of a fever. As agreed, he’d escorted Elsa to dinner last night, but he’d had little patience with her demands and chatter. Trudie, the thought of Trudie, his desire for Trudie, had been a constant ache. He’d tossed and turned through a sleepless night, wanting another kiss, wanting her.
