Thanksgiving Groom by Brenda Minton

exercise. He shook off thoughts of her in his arms, because that wasn’t going to happen.
    He wasn’t about to play into her father’s plan.
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    They set up camp before the sun went down. Penelope held a pole for the tent, which was about all the help she could be. Her fingers, even though she’d worn heavy gloves, were frozen and numb. Her cheeks were wind-burned and cold. She stumbled a little and Tucker shot her a look. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Good thing he did, because she wasn’t in the mood to be lectured.
    She glanced toward Wilma, who was steadily adding wood to the fire. Clark was stirring up some type of dried beef and vegetables with water. Soup. If only they could have coffee. She’d give anything for coffee. But Tucker had insisted on downsizing, and the coffeepot had been deemed too bulky to take along.
    She was going to miss that blue coffeepot that had bubbled so cheerfully on the wood stove back at the cabin. She was going to miss the cabin. She’d gotten to be herself, just herself, for the first time in a long time.
    â€œHold that steady,” Tucker commanded as he tapped one of the last stakes into the ground. “Almost done.”
    She nodded but she couldn’t talk. Her lips were frozen in a tight line. She trembled inside her coat, shivering until her back ached.
    â€œAre you going to make it?” Tucker rounded the tent and was suddenly at her side. “Of course.”
    â€œYou look a little lost. Food will help.” He took her by the arm and steered her toward the fire. “And heat.”
    â€œYes, heat.” She stood in front of the fire andsoaked up its warmth. It left her back cold, so then she turned.
    â€œThis is a little more of an outdoor experience than you probably planned for.”
    â€œA little.” She waited for Tucker to walk away. He didn’t. He stood next to her for a long time and she wished he’d put an arm around her.
    Sign of hypothermia. She’d read books. She knew the symptoms. People did crazy things when they got too cold. Sometimes they wanted to be held. And she’d never wanted to be held so badly in her life. Tears were burning her eyes and her throat tightened.
    â€œTwo more days, Penelope. You can make it.” His voice was soft and close to her ear.
    She nodded, but she couldn’t get words past the lump of emotion. He believed she could make it. He believed. She buried her face in her hands. How many people had ever believed she could make it?
    â€œYou’re okay.” His arm slipped around her waist. Before she could really think about it, she turned into the solid wall that was his chest. Her cold cheeks met warm flannel that smelled of the outdoors. Strong arms wrapped around her and held her close.
    â€œShhh, it’s okay.” He gathered her closer and she nodded, but she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to move out of the safety of his embrace. She was suddenly in a place where it was okay to be weak, and yet someone thought she was strong.
    â€œI’m sorry.” She hiccupped the words and didn’t move her cheek from the soft flannel of the jacket he wore under his coat.
    â€œYou’re fine. You’re strong. It’s overwhelming outhere, Penelope. It’s cold. It’s quiet. It’s hard going. We’re all tired. You’re tired.”
    She pulled back and wiped her gloved hand across her cheeks. He took her hand in his and pulled the glove off and shoved it into the pocket of her coat and pulled the other off.
    â€œI’ll freeze without them.” She started to reach into her pocket but he grabbed her hands, both of them, and held them tight in his.
    â€œYour hands will freeze if you keep them on.” He lifted her hands to his mouth and blew warmth onto her numb fingers. “This will help. After you get warmed up you can put them back on.”
    She could only nod. How could she do or say