While Emma was upstairs putting on the many layers he had set out, Wyatt grabbed the daypacks he had bought for them and loaded up the necessary supplies. His was larger and heavier with more survival gear and the rest of his surprise, but he made sure she had the basics for a safe day hike. He stashed the packs in the back of her RAV4 and popped into the basement to pull on his own new clothes so he would look the part if they were seen.

Emma was already close to sweating by the time she walked down the stairs and found Wyatt in a very similar outfit. He wore enormous leather hiking boots, nylon pants with a ton of pockets, a simple green thermal, and what looked like a rain jacket. She cocked her head when he pulled on a full-face ski mask, followed by a pair of gloves. Though the space where his eyes should be was startlingly empty, this was the most Emma had ever seen of him, and she couldn't stop staring.

'I'm driving.'

"What?" she gasped, seeing her keys in his hand. "Can you drive?"

'Yes, little bird. I would never put you in danger.'

Wyatt's message didn't convey his eye roll or the cheeky grin that stretched ear to ear. He was trying very hard not to laugh at her stunned expression. What he didn't tell her was that he'd practiced a few times while she slept to make sure everything felt just as it had before he was incorporeal. He was even more pleased when she simply shrugged and reached for her new puffy coat. Trusting him in the bedroom was one thing. This was a different kind of faith, and it made him pulse with satisfaction.

"Not sure ghosts are covered in my insurance policy," Emma mused.

Wyatt just chuckled, guiding his moody hummingbird out to the car.

Riding in the passenger's seat was as easy and normal as breathing. Todd had never let her drive, granted they were always in his Porsche. Still, she couldn't help sneaking glimpses of Wyatt as he confidently draped one wrist over the wheel and rested his other hand on the gear shift in the center. He had an entire playlist of Christmas country music that had been blaring around the house for weeks, and it had now migrated to the car. Emma didn't mind in the least, and as they couldn't talk, she settled on watching the world go by the window while Wyatt took them farther and farther from civilization.

They drove for about an hour before pulling into a small, empty lot with a sign for Mt. Walker trailhead. Hiking? Emma had never gone hiking before. Would she like it? Was it dangerous? Would people notice Wyatt's lack of features? What if they got lost? Was there a guide? How long did someone hike? She thought hiking was something you did while camping or vacationing. Did people just drive down the road and randomly hike?

"Um, are we going in there?" she asked, pointing to where the trail disappeared into the trees.

'Yup.'

Now she understood the boots that could handle ice. They had driven further up in elevation, and while not much, remnants of snow clung to tree branches and clumped on the ground. She now understood the new wardrobe, but the pieces still weren't connecting. What gave him this idea? She had never mentioned any interest in exploring the home of creatures that could eat you or reenacting a scene from Backcountry.

"Wyatt, I um, well, why?"

The question stumped him. So he took a moment to formulate his response.

'Well, hiking is something I did a lot of when I was alive, and I would like to share it with you. If you're not into it, that's fine, but I really think you'll love it. The wilderness has all the silence you could ask for. You won't have to talk to strangers. You'll enjoy the exercise. And out in nature, away from people, we can interact just like we do at home. Out here, we can be ourselves... quirky and dead.'

"Put it that way," she said with a timid smile.

'I know this trail. It's two miles in to the north viewpoint and a half mile more to the south viewpoint. Then back. Four to five miles total. There's 2,000 feet in elevation gain, but you're in great shape. And I promise the views are worth it.'

"Two-thousand feet!" Emma protested. "I'm not a mountain climber."

Wyatt laughed and opened his door, letting in a blast of cold air. Emma promptly pulled the new beanie over her head and shoved her hands inside her trusty gloves. She wasn't about to sit in the car alone in the middle of nowhere, so she jumped out and found Wyatt digging in the back. He handed her a small backpack that she had never seen before and slung a larger one over his own shoulders before sliding a pair of black aviator sunglasses on. Now, his disguise was complete.

"Between winter and the great outdoors, I can almost pass for a real boy."

Emma shrieked, jumping a foot in the air at the shocking, computerized voice. "What the devil was that?"

"I found the text to voice setting. Now, it's like talking to you."

"So much for silence," she grumbled, too startled by the strange robotic voice to appreciate that the tablet gave Wyatt a way to actually talk.

"Ha, ha, ha," the speaker squawked.

"Nope. I draw the line there. No robot laughing."

If only she could hear the guffaws coming from the real Wyatt as he took in her overwhelming discomfort and unusual irritability. Seemed throwing his little bird into new situations brought out her attitude.

"Come on, grumpy. Let's go explore."

"Yippee," she muttered, falling into step behind him.

After twenty minutes or so, Emma started to relax, finding she actually enjoyed the rhythmic crunch of her shoes on rock and ice. Wyatt was wrong. It wasn't silent, but it was quiet. Sounds were everywhere, wind rustling through creaky treetops, things she didn't want to think about scuttling in the brush, the occasional bird song. It was a peaceful symphony made even better by the magical surroundings. Her fear dissipated with every step as she fell in love with the forest around her.

"There's water in your pack if you get thirsty," the odd A.I. voice informed her some time later.

"Thanks." Emma flipped the backpack around and undid the zipper. Inside, she was shocked to find all kinds of stuff. Sunscreen, a headlamp, matches, a multi-tool that appeared to have a decent sized knife, a couple protein bars, a small first aid kit. "Dear God, does that say bear spray? Wyatt? Wyatt!"

He stopped and turned to see Emma holding out the red spray can like it might grow teeth and bite her, and he did his best to keep his shoulders still as he laughed and typed a placating response.

"Worst case scenario, little bird. That pack is about precaution, not inevitability."

"And what's the probability?" she enunciated, trying to swallow back her panic.

"It's highly unlikely. Especially during the winter. If by some odd chance you see one, don't run, just slowly back away. Bears don't like noise, so making a lot of it will usually deter them."

"Right," she drawled. "See a bear and don't run. Got it. Maybe we should make a lot of noise now?"

"Not necessary. But next time, we can put a bell on your pack. That is usually sufficient enough to keep them away."

"You're telling me a bear is afraid of a bell? Are we talking Liberty Bell here?"

There was no more controlling his laughter as he typed another response. Her face was comedic gold right now, and he longed to hug those nerves right out of her.

"They're not afraid of noise. They just avoid it. Bears tend to be path of least resistance. You're too much work to hunt. The noise prevents you from startling the bear. They don't react well to surprise encounters."

"Why didn't you do that this time?" she squeaked.

"Trust me. You're safe. I'll make sure of it. Come on, little bird. We're over halfway there."

Having no other alternative, Emma pulled out the water bottle, took a long drink, and continued up the trail behind an overly confident Wyatt.

'Keep me safe,' she grumbled in her head. 'Right. Because he can fight off a bear without touching it.'

When they finally reached the first viewpoint, all of Emma's concerns and frustrations completely dissolved. A winding valley cut through snow-covered mountain peaks that spanned the horizon. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and a deep sense of belonging spread through her. There were no words. She didn't think this moment could get any better until she saw Wyatt pull out the Fuji camera she had given him and raise it up to his face to frame the perfect shot. Now the wonderous nature had taken a backseat to watching this man create another work of art.

Once he had taken a couple, Emma had him put his sunglasses back on, and she pulled out her cell phone to snap a few selfies of them with the mountains at their backs. The fact that she was hiking with a ghost who may or may not be her boyfriend should be unequivocally odd, but it wasn't. Nothing had ever felt more right.

"It looks too beautiful to be real," Emma breathed, her eyes slowly spanning the incredible view.

'Not as beautiful as you.'

"Ugh, cheesy," she laughed, turning to see Wyatt staring at her.

'Yeah, but true. I knew that beanie would make your eyes shine. You should wear blue all the time.'

"Okay, Romeo," Emma said quietly, flushing under his attention. "Now what do we do?"

'Pull out the small army-green pouch that says 'Gor Tex Bivy' on it and spread it on the ground, please.'

"Um, okay."

Emma dug around her pack and located the tube-like drawstring bag. Inside was a matching roll of material that felt a bit like a tarp and was roughly shaped like a sarcophagus when she spread it out where Wyatt had indicated. He took a seat at one end and directed her to sit beside him.

"The ground is wet and cold," she sighed.

'That's why we have this.'

"The mummy suit is going to keep us dry?"

Wyatt cracked up at both her description and look of disbelief.

'It's an emergency sleeping bag that is designed to retain body heat and keep you warm and dry, even in severe weather. Trust me. Sit. Enjoy the view.'

Emma dropped down beside him and couldn't fault the epic landscape that stretched out in front of them. When the smell of chocolate filled the air, she looked over to see Wyatt pouring hot cocoa from a thermos. He handed her an insulated to-go mug that had come from the kitchen back home, and she happily wrapped her hands around it and took a sip. It was delicious. Things got even better when he pulled out random baggies that held all the fixings for a charcuterie board—different cheeses, mixed nuts, kalamata olives, sliced deli meats, crackers, and her personal favorite Dijon mustard.

'Christmas picnic with a mountain view. Congratulations on your first hike, little bird.'

"Wyatt, this is incredible. We should make it our own holiday tradition. Maybe even go someplace different each year. Where else have you hiked?"

'All over these parts. Now that I've seen you do this, I would love to take you up Mount Ellinor, but we should wait until spring.'

"I would like that."

'Does this mean you like hiking?'

Emma bit her lip and thought it over for a second. "I think I do. The idea of carnivorous animals is terrifying, but I love everything else."

Wyatt answered all her questions and shared stories about many of his former outdoor adventures, most including Mike, Taylor, or both. Those were happier times, and he knew how lucky he was to be having this moment. Even with her initial reluctance, it was clear how much Emma was enjoying being here, and he hoped they could do it again.

When they polished off all the food, Emma agreed to walk the next half mile to the second viewpoint. She moved quickly and was sure-footed despite her reticence around sports. He had a feeling that was another false belief in her head. The girl enjoyed watching football, soccer, and hockey, moved her body daily, and did yoga like a pro. She may be short and tiny, but that didn't mean she wasn't athletic. He would have to get her strapped to some skis to test her earlier statement—a challenge for another day.

On the hike back, Emma forgot about man-eating beasts and the endless list of possible dangers when traipsing around the middle of nowhere. It occurred to her that this may be the first time she had ever been aware of breathing. Each lung full brought another wave of peace to her system, like every inhale was erasing all that came before it. Seeing the beauty and power in the wilderness around her made the rest of the world feel small, less intimidating. As they walked closer to the car, she began to feel disappointed that it was over.

One look at Emma's face and Wyatt knew exactly what was going through her mind. He felt the same way every time he left the sanctuary of nature and returned home.

"We can hike as often as you like. I can even take you camping sometime if you want," the tablet translated.

"Like overnight?"

"That's usually what camping means."

"That computer voice doesn't do sarcasm," Emma countered drily. "Do I have to sleep in that mummy sack?"

"No, little bird. That's for emergencies. We'll get a proper tent and an inflatable pad for comfort."

"Sounds better than my former nest at the house," she teased.

"It will be."

By the time they got home, it was almost five and Emma was ready for a real meal. She went upstairs to change into some comfy clothes before heading down to the kitchen to get started. She had been planning this feast for a week and was as excited about the cooking as she was about the eating. After preparing them a classic French onion soup with chunks of crispy sourdough bread and a cap of bubbly cheese, she followed it with bacon-wrapped filet mignons served with roasted artichokes and garlic aioli. It was rich and luxurious, but for once there was no guilt around indulging.

'I've got one more gift for you.'

"Wyatt, no. I've received more than enough."

'This isn't for Christmas. You didn't get a birthday present, so I'm making up for that. Wait here for a second.'

Emma sighed and gathered the dishes to take them to the sink. When Wyatt returned, he was carrying a rather large bundle shaped like a blob covered in candy cane paper. He set it on the table and put his hands on his hips, clearly waiting for her to unwrap it. She could almost imagine the satisfied smirk on his face. This man loved giving presents. That much was now clear.

Walking over, Emma began the process of picking off the entire roll of tape he had to have used to bunch the paper together. When she finally freed the contents, the awkward shape became clear. It was a large wicker basket filled to overflowing with every personal pampering product known to man. Wyatt had bought a few tubs of her favorite lavender body cream, bath salts, a dozen tubes of various skin products, scrubs, and face masks, bubble bath, hair treatments, essential oils, and a few different types of exfoliators, body brushes, and a fluffy, light pink bath robe.

'I googled at-home spa kits. Thought you deserved some pampering, but I knew a real spa would be stressful.'

"You're right. Todd gave me certificates every year, and I always re-gifted them at work. The idea of a public place where strangers want to touch me, possibly with my clothes off... nope, not gonna happen. I never thought to do this stuff to myself. It seemed frivolous."

"Todd is a waste of oxygen," he growled. "If I could touch you, I'd be the one pampering you." Once more, he kept his words to himself and typed a different response.

'Well, you can have a nice long soak tonight in the privacy of your own bathroom.'

"What's this?" Emma asked, pulling a sleek, black box out of the basket. She thought it might be a fancy shampoo, but what she pulled out looked like a large rubber microphone.

'It's a vibrator.'

"You want me to put that thing in me?" she screeched with wide eyes.

'NO! It's for external relaxation. The ad said shoulders, neck, and back. It's even waterproof, so while you relax in the bath I can give you a massage.'

"Did it say massager or vibrator?"

'I can't remember. Does it matter? It vibrates and massages.'

"Um, well I think maybe the advertising was misleading... for a reason."

'What? No. There were pictures. And it had over a thousand reviews. Husbands said their wives loved it.'

"Exactly," Emma drawled with a giggle.

It was then that Wyatt realized his mistake, and he groaned into his palms. It was meant to be a back massager, not another sex toy!

'But it's so big! I really thought it was for massage.'

"Oh, it is... just a little further south." Emma could no longer contain the laughter that bubbled up inside her, and she doubled over in a fit, clutching the not so innocent massaging vibrator. Wyatt loved seeing her cut loose like this. He had never seen her laugh so freely, and though it really was a mix-up, seeing her this happy was worth it.

'How about you go relax in the bath, and I clean the kitchen?'

"And here I thought the gifts were done," Emma teased with a grin.

Blowing a kiss over her shoulder, she scooped up the basket and headed for the bathroom upstairs. She had eyed a rather yummy looking vanilla bath bomb and was looking forward to a hot soak with the new book Wyatt had given her last night.

Despite the steamy water and relaxing fragrance, her pulse raced with every page she devoured until the itch underneath her skin became too great. Pulling the plug from the drain, she quickly dried and wrapped herself in the new pink robe before shouting Wyatt's name from the top of the stairs. She watched as he raced up with the tablet in hand and realized her urgent yell may have alarmed him, but she didn't care. Her body was warm and needy... and it was Christmas after all.

"Let's figure out that new massager," she blurted, clutching at his shirt and pulling him to the bedroom.

Wyatt laughed, though she couldn't hear it, and he wondered exactly what she had read that had her all but stripping down and throwing herself at him. Seeing the cloth belt of the robe dangling from the end of the metal bedframe gave him an idea.

'Do you trust me?'

Emma considered his question and realized she trusted him more than she had probably ever trusted anyone. "Yes," she said decidedly, and Wyatt's chest rumbled with approval. He was certain that her 'yes' was the very best thing he had ever heard.

'Lay down. Put your hands above your head and your wrists COMFORTABLY against the metal bars.'

"What are you going to do?"

'I'm going to tie them there.'

"What? How? I don't think this is a good idea."

'Then let's use a safe word. When you say it, whatever I do comes to an immediate stop.'

"No matter what?"

'No matter what. And you can use it whenever you want for any reason.'

"Okay. What's the word?"

'That's for you to decide. What can you remember even if panicking?'

"Um, lemon. That was the word Momma gave me for emergencies if I couldn't speak freely. I'll remember that."

'Lemon it is. If I hear that, everything stops.'

"And if I say lemon, you untie me?"

'Yes, little bird. I swear it.'

"What are you going to do once I'm restrained?"

'First, you won't be restrained. Not like that. And second, I've got some ideas. And you've got a safe word.'

Emma nodded and watched as Wyatt left the room only to return a few minutes later with an armful of random things—a new paint brush, two feathers from who knew where, a bowl of ice, the small black stone she had found on their hike, two soup spoons, some body oil from her basket of spa goodies, the two new vibrators.

"What on earth are you going to do with my pasta crimper?" she asked, both nervous and intrigued.

'Like I said. I have some ideas, and you have the word lemon.'

Emma really did trust him, so she lowered down to the bed, putting her hands up by the metal rods in a relaxed position. The pink belt of her bathrobe trailed up her bare stomach, across her breast, and along her arm before Wyatt wrapped it in some sort of figure eight around her wrists, securing them to the bed. Her whole body relaxed when she gave a little tug and realized he had left the knot loose enough that she could pull herself free if necessary.

He then pulled out one of her silk scarves and slid it across her flesh, causing her to gasp when it landed atop her eyes. Wyatt couldn't actually touch her, and she didn't have to raise her head. This was her choice, and she found herself wanting to explore the levels of pleasure he could create.

Wyatt groaned as her head lifted, and he loosely tied the silk to cover her eyes.

"Good girl," he praised, wishing she could hear him.

Goosebumps broke out along her flesh, and he longed to lick every last one. He watched as her chest heaved with her erratic breath, the pulse in her neck throbbing. He had never seen anything more beautiful than his little bird tied to the bed, patiently waiting for whatever he would do to her. It was exactly how he had imagined when she had first showed him the antique metal frame.

Lisa had always been selfish and manipulative when it came to sex. As a teenager, he didn't mind, feeling lucky to just have the girl he wanted. But as a man, sex became a weapon she wielded all too well. It wasn't until Emma that he realized what really turned him on and made him feel confident was a woman who trusted him enough to submit. His little bird handing him control was the greatest reward she could ever give him.

A brush of something soft and light circled around Emma's nipple, and she flinched in shock. She knew it was coming, but with the silk blindfold that first sensation had been a complete surprise. The same sweeping feel circled her other breast, and she recognized it as one of the feathers. She smiled softly, loving that he began with something so gentle.

Wyatt had lit the jasmine candle by the bed, and he quickly warmed one of the spoons before filling it with massage oil. Drizzling the liquid across her breasts, he used the smooth metal on the back to spread it across her skin.

"Oh, wow. That feels amazing. What is that?" Emma asked breathily, and Wyatt smiled.

He switched things up with the paintbrush and then the slightly gritty texture of the stone Emma had found. There wasn't a part of her that didn't get his undivided attention, and whatever made her gasp or moan was repeated. A feather traced lightly up her thigh, over her mound, and down the other side, causing her to naturally part her legs in anticipation. Neither Wyatt nor Emma knew how erotic delicate touch could be, and he was pleased to learn that simply mixing up pressure, locations, and textures had her panting and dripping between her legs.

She tried not to jump when a cool, hard object slid up her thigh. She assumed it was the toy from last night but wasn't entirely sure. Wyatt quickly removed it, and Emma heard the unmistakable clink of ice. Next was the clear thrum of a vibrator, and she knew it was the large handheld as soon as Wyatt placed it between her legs.

"I knew that wasn't for my shoulders," she sighed, trying to control the involuntary movement of her hips.

"That makes one of us," Wyatt said, his eyes glued to the glistening pink flesh that responded so well to his touch.

For the next hour, he titillated Emma's sweet body with opposing sensations, cold metal sliding through her slick heat, warm oil chased by ice cubes across her skin, and the many uses of the humble spoon. He would never be able to use one again without thinking about the delicious way she shrieked and moaned when the metal popped against her sensitive places. Emma squealed and gasped, her body arching and writhing with each surprising touch. She was stunned at how a sudden sting quickly sent tingles to all the right places, and a soothing caress could wipe it away.

Wyatt had her sweating, chilled, and gulping in air as she regularly forgot to breathe, undulant under his attention. He had never seen anything this erotic in his life, and if he weren't already dead, he was sure the swelling in his cock would kill him. It was time to reward his sweet plaything for being such a good girl.

Wyatt had teased her clit mercilessly, but he had yet to give her enough, so when she felt the low pulse of the massager land directly between her legs, Emma whimpered in relief. It was soon chased by a scream of startled delight when ice cold metal slid right into her hot, wet channel.

"Ahh, oh, wow. Wyatt. Oh. Yes, yes, right there. Please, don't stop," Emma panted.

"That's right, little bird. You're such a good girl. Fuck, your pussy is so pretty, swallowing everything I give it." His words were only for him, but he wondered what she would think of them. Would they turn her on more? Would she tell him to be quiet? His hands were far too busy to stop and type, so he decided to find out from her later.

The chilled vibrator quickly warmed as Wyatt pumped it in and out of her demanding body. He could feel the grip of her muscles clenching down on the toy, and he longed to pin her hips to the bed to keep them from chasing his touch. If only it was him that her body was holding onto.

"Greedy," he chuckled as she matched his thrusts.

Wyatt propped the vibrator right along her center and picked up the pasta crimper, wishing he had three hands. When the wheel rolled around her erect nipples, Emma cried out, and he recognized the breathy sound. She peaked, convulsing and writhing before going rigid. This was the moment to suck one of her tight, pink buds in his mouth, and he sighed, choosing to focus the massager on her engorged clit.

"Stop, stop, oh, Wyatt. Oh, my god. Yes, but stop. Lemon on all vibrations," Emma rasped, her voice thin as she sucked in needed oxygen.

He chuckled, removing the massager and turning off the vibrator, though he continued to rock it gently into her g-spot. Small quakes lingered, racking her body until she went completely still, and he momentarily thought she had passed out until he saw the woozy smile on her lips.

Wyatt slowly pulled out the toy. He slid the blindfold off and hovered over her, staring into those two infinite blue gems. Emma's eyes were a brilliant color, like a swimming pool in the sunlight with flecks of white and teal surrounded by a dark blue ring on the outside. His whole family had brown eyes, and while more than one person had said his were like glowing embers, they didn't compare to the woman beneath him. Mostly because hers were filled with awe, contentment, and an emotion he didn't want to define.

Falling for Emma was one thing, but it couldn't happen the other way around. Wyatt refused to shackle her heart to a dead man. He would not be the one to steal her future, her chance at a real life with a good partner. With that sobering thought, he lifted and untied each of her wrists.

'Get some sleep, little bird.'

"Hmm," she hummed, her eyes sliding shut.

Wyatt pushed a pillow into her arms, and she wrapped her body around it as he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders. He then built a fire before crawling into bed next to the woman he wanted desperately to be his.