Wyatt couldn't remember a better holiday, not since he was a boy. Emma had decided to experiment with traditional Christmas foods from around the world, and every single night was something new. There were mince pies, pierogies, pork sorpotel, and something called sopa de galets. Then there were the desserts. If he had a body, it would be twice his normal size.

Emma didn't eat enough to gain too much weight, and despite everything she was doing, her workouts were consistent. Wyatt still thought she could do with a few more pounds, but dickwad Todd had done a number on her. He noticed she was working a lot more lately, too. When she shut herself in the small library, the last thing he wanted to do was distract her, so Wyatt found other ways to occupy himself.

He had been moody about using her money to buy her Christmas gifts, but Emma didn't let that last. She truly did not care about things like that and had a childlike enthusiasm around the idea of getting to open presents. Wyatt hoped his plan would meet her expectations, not that she would be anything less than grateful. She was the complete opposite of Lisa, and just as Wyatt was changing her perceptions, she was changing his.

By Christmas Eve, Emma was so nervous she could hardly sit still. Her gift was a bit of a risk, and she was terrified that it might be received badly. Wyatt was amused and tried to assure her that anything she gave him would be appreciated, but she was to the point of wringing her hands as she searched for things to do.

'Let's make Christmas cookies. I want to try my skill at decorating them.'

"If I bring the hospital any more trays of desserts, they'll be sending their patients home with diabetes," Emma whined.

'We need them for Santa. That way if your gift sucks, he can leave me something good.'

"Oh God, what if you hate it?"

'That was a joke, little bird. Relax. I will love anything that comes from you. It could be a finger painting, and I would cherish it.'

"Doubtful. You've never been subjected to my subpar art skills."

'Come on. I want to bake Christmas cookies with you. Think of it as my first gift.'

"Fine."

By the time she had laid out all the ingredients, two mixing bowls, a whisk, measuring cups, and set up her stand mixer, Emma was getting excited. No one had ever cooked with her before.

"Okay, make your sugar cookies," she smirked, crossing her arms and leaning against the opposite counter.

'Very funny. You're likely to get raw egg and flour balls.'

"You asked to do this, so I'm going to teach you. That bowl is for the butter, sugar, vanilla, and eggs. It attaches to the mixer. And that bowl is for the dry ingredients."

The next few hours Emma completely forgot about her nerves as she walked Wyatt through the steps to make the ideal sugar cookies with homemade frosting. By the time they were done, the kitchen was an explosion of white powder, sprinkles, and food coloring, and Emma stood in a daze, her mouth slightly agape as she stared at Wyatt.

"I see you," she whispered in awe. "Don't move."

She pulled the cell out of her back pocket and turned on the camera, snapping a picture. Flour dusted his face, and she could make out the curve of his full lips, the bridge of his nose, and the height of his cheekbones. The white powder even clung to the dusting of his beard and arched brows. Anyone who knew the man would recognize this as Wyatt.

"Look," she said, holding out her phone.

Wyatt took it from her, and a myriad of emotions rushed through his mind. It was definitely him. He moved closer to Emma and held the cell in front of them, taking a photo together. She was radiant, smiling with dancing eyes, a look he hadn't seen before. That's when he realized what he wanted most for Christmas was her.

Cleaning up, Emma made them each a glass of homemade hot cocoa, and Wyatt filled a plate with their iced creations. He laughed at the very noticeable difference between hers and his, but she assured him they would all taste equally amazing, unless he screwed up the cookie dough. It was a similar sassy comment that had him tossing the first bit of flour which started their war. Well worth it in his opinion.

Back in the living room, Emma tucked herself in the corner of the sofa, sipping from her favorite mug while Wyatt built a fire. When the kindling caught flame, he took his favorite seat in the stone-gray armchair beside her. Despite its elegant curves and abundant wood trim, the chair was deep seated and wide, giving ample space for his large frame. It also allowed him to balance the tablet on the arm of the couch so they could chat while indulging their sweet tooth.

The conversation became nostalgic, and Emma shared highlights about life with her nomadic mom, always chasing the next great thing. They had lived in nine different states, seventeen cities, and twenty different houses from Emma's birth until she left at eighteen. This meant the girl had stories and soon had them both laughing.

Wyatt was beginning to understand why she could love her mother the way she did. It sounded like the woman was just a kid herself, as if Emma was raised by a wild sister instead of a parent. That explained why his little bird was always looking for direction and approval.

A week before Christmas break, during her freshmen year at university, her mom had an unexpected stroke. She died how she lived, in the arms of a new man at a house she had secured for their holiday reunion. Emma went back to Pensacola to handle her mother's affairs, and when she returned to Seattle, she never left again.

Wyatt told her about holidays and family traditions that were repeated every single year in the same house just on the other side of town. He grew up in one of Shelter Cove's middle-class subdivisions with rows of brick homes down manicured streets. He loved it. Taylor hated it.

Wyatt had been extremely athletic, but his favorite was playing center on the high school football team. He was also very popular with the ladies. It didn't surprise Emma that he was a charmer, but Wyatt admitted he only had eyes for Lisa. This was something that had always rankled his little brother who excelled in math, smoking pot, and didn't grow into his skin until he started working out in his twenties.

The boys had very different childhood experiences despite living in the same home with the same loving parents. Given their rather average and comfortable upbringing, he didn't understand how Tay ended up with so many bad habits. Best guess, it was just holding onto teenage bullshit, but Emma understood better than most how juvenile drama could shape you as an adult.

They talked about Taylor's gambling, and Emma felt slightly guilty asking questions, knowing each bit of information was going into her spreadsheet. When Wyatt shared his brother's final request, he made a joke about his death having one good outcome. All of his retirement funds went to Tay, so even if his baby brother made more mistakes, he would be taken care of later in life. The house also went to him, and he immediately sold it for significantly less than it was worth. The price made the sale happen quickly, and Wyatt knew it was to pay off the gambling debt. He was happy to have been able to help after all, but for Emma, it was yet another motive.

All Wyatt wanted was for his brother to be okay. He apologized again for their interaction the other night, admitting that he had seen some appalling behavior from Taylor when it came to women. It was why he didn't pop in on him anymore. But he had never seen him do anything illegal, just crass. Not wanting to ruin the evening, Wyatt added that it didn't seem his brother was gambling anymore, so that seemed like a good outcome as well. Then he changed the topic back to the holidays.

'Would you mind continuing one of my family traditions? We always opened a present the night before, and I would like to give you one.'

"Okay," she smiled. "Can I give you one too?"

'I thought you'd never ask.'

Wyatt stood and walked over to the tree, finding the box he wanted and seeing several with his name on them. Emma grabbed one for him, and they returned to the couch, swapping the gifts.

"You first," she squealed. Emma was so excited by this, she literally bounced where she sat, making Wyatt chuckle.

He ripped open the paper and lifted the lid to the clothing box. His shoulders began to shake with laughter as he pulled out the giant footie pajamas complete with a hood. They were covered in rainbow trout and fishing rods with the slogan 'A Reel Catch' across the buttocks.

"The butt flap opens in the back too," Emma giggled. "In case you ever decide to flash me."

'Just for that, I'm going to walk around with it down all the time. Open your gift you little monster.'

Emma laughed again and gingerly undid the paper, one piece of tape at a time. On the box lid, Wyatt had written, 'Your Christmas Kit.' When she opened it, joy burst through her chest at the idyllic collection of items.

"Wyatt, this is perfect."

Inside was her own set of pajamas, but they were a proper flannel pair with reindeer and snowflakes on them. He had also included several candy canes, a red Santa hat, and the last book of a shifter series she had been groaning about.

'Open the book to page 137 and read it aloud.'

Emma obeyed with a confused smirk. "Oh, um, okay...

'"On your back, pup. What did I tell you about disobedience?" he growled, pushing her down onto the piled furs.

"That you would punish me," Aurora said, nervous and excited. Her alpha wouldn't hurt her, but that didn't mean his punishment would necessarily feel good either.

"That's right my naughty pup, and I told you to stay inside tonight. You're lucky I found you first."

His hands were rough, and his claws were sharp, tearing the dress from her body. The flames danced in the hearth, imitating the heat swirling low in her belly. This was a punishment Aurora was excited to receive.

"You won't be smiling in a minute. I have no plans to touch you. Tonight, you do the work," he growled, tossing one of the metal batons used by pack security onto the bed. "Pick it up."

The weapon was cold and hard, and while the end was blunt, there was nothing forgiving about it.

"That's what you will fuck tonight. Spread those legs, pup."'

"Do you want me to continue?" Emma asked, looking up from the page in confusion.

'I want you to look under those pajamas.'

Emma lifted up the Christmas flannels and gasped when she saw a gunmetal black, stainless-steel baton, but this one had a large button on the end. Her face flared with heat, and her hands had the slightest tremble.

"Is that... is it... oh, God."

Wyatt briefly second-guessed his plan. They had only been intimate for a couple of weeks, but she had been getting more comfortable and assertive. And he knew how much his little bird enjoyed her books. She had even admitted to secretly being jealous of people experiencing sex like that, even if they were fictitious. So it reasoned that she would like bringing those scenes to life, but they had never discussed toys before. Had she used them in the past? He hadn't been sure and ordered one of the simplest vibrators available. It wasn't very large and happened to look a lot like a security baton. It was too late to back out now, so he continued, ready to toss out the whole idea if she wasn't interested.

'We will be recreating that scene tonight, little pup. Now, unless you want me to veto this plan, I suggest you take off your clothes and lie on your back in front of the fire. Your fluffy rug will have to do.'

If only she could see the teasing smirk on Wyatt's face or the lust pooling in his eyes. He had read the entire scene and fully planned on being an active participant, just as the alpha eventually was as well. But first he would make her deny herself pleasure until her body ached with need and her words were nothing more than slurred pleas for release. Then, and only then, would he take over and give her exactly what she wanted.

Emma was both intrigued and terrified as she slowly removed the hoodie and jeans she was wearing. Wyatt was holding the metal toy, waving it in the universal 'continue' command, and she shakily pulled off her fitted tank, followed by her undergarments. Being naked was not what had her nerves skittering. It was the weapon in his hand.

Books such as these had made her curious years ago, and when she admitted that to Todd, he was more than happy to get creative. She should have stopped it the moment he pulled out solid metal cuffs and aggressive looking nipple clamps on a silver chain. That night was definitely the beginning of the end for their sex life. What little trust she had in her fiancé, in regard to knowing her body, ended with the pain and bruises he inflicted.

Despite her cries about the ache in her wrists and shoulders, he had left her handcuffed on her back while repeatedly plunging a glittery tentacle in between her legs. It was too large, and she wasn't wet enough to adjust. Todd knew nothing about the female body, and apparently tears and begging were considered part of his game. When he finally came all over her skin, he wrenched the clamps from her breasts and flipped her over to undo the cuffs.

That night, Emma took herself to an emergency care center while Todd slept it off. It had taken months for the nerve damage in her hands to heal, and she never allowed another 'toy' to touch her under threat of sexual assault. It was the one and only time he ever apologized, and that was only after he saw the medical chart along with her signed waiver to not report the abuse.

'Whatever put that fear in your eyes, tonight we're going to erase it. Your body. Your toy. Your limits. Your choice.'

"How do you read me so well?"

'Every emotion plays out on your face, but I also know your ex was an asshole. Put the two together and it's safe to assume he abused you.'

Wyatt handed her the sleek metal vibrator. It was significantly smaller than what Todd had used and smooth rather than textured. The circumference didn't grow in size either. Emma realized the biggest difference was it was in her hands and not anyone else's.

Shooting a more confident smile at Wyatt, she finally lowered to the floor, her skin pressed against the soft rug, and the firelight dancing across her features. Wyatt had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

'Start slow, with only your hands. Get yourself ready. I want you dripping before that baton goes near your beautiful body.'

Just reading his words already had heat rising in her skin. This was going to be a very different experience.

'And Emma, if you orgasm, we'll start all over. Your climax belongs to me.'

⚞❖⚟

When Emma woke Christmas afternoon, her body felt deliciously sore, and she stretched under the down comforter, luxuriating in the feel of soft sheets against her naked flesh. Wyatt had her awake until the sky had started to turn a dusky gray with pre-dawn, and her body had gone completely boneless. All of his practice with dexterity had paid off when he finally took control of their little scene.

It was nothing like any of her former experiences. He made Emma ride the edge of climax for what felt like hours until she could no longer take it, and only then did he slowly build her back up and launch her into oblivion. Wyatt showed her that the vibrator was meant for so much more than simple penetration. The man was a damn expert when it came to teasing every nerve in all the right places. Just remembering the night had her giggling like a schoolgirl.

That was until a black Henley, pushed up at the sleeves, and substantially filled-out jeans walked in holding a tray. Emma pushed herself up, and her eyes went wide, taking in the elaborate breakfast.

"Hold on. I'm still naked," she said, but Wyatt didn't give her a chance to move, setting it down beside her.

"You can cook?" she asked, tucking the sheet under her arms and reaching for the mug of steaming coffee.

'Merry Christmas, little bird. This is the first of your gifts, and there are more waiting downstairs. ... And yes, I can cook. ;)'

Emma had whipped up some cranberry orange muffins yesterday, and Wyatt served one alongside fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, and fried tomato slices. It looked wonderful, and she was starving after all their exercise the night before.

"I know you don't like wasting food, but are you sure you don't want some of this?" Emma asked, scooping up a forkful of eggs.

'Dinners are indulgent enough. And I may have had a muffin and coffee earlier...'

Emma laughed. "So do we get to exchange gifts when I'm done?"

Wyatt typed out his response and snagged a piece of bacon as he passed the tablet over.

'It's already begun. Breakfast in bed. And when you finish, I've brought a present up for you, but food first.'

That was all the incentive she needed to inhale the lovely breakfast he had made. Wyatt laughed at her enthusiasm and hoped today's gifts would redeem him after last night's revelation. When they had finished the scene on the rug by the fire, Emma was relaxed enough to share what Todd had done to her, and once Wyatt had calmed his murderous rage, he felt like a complete ass for giving her something that was triggering.

Emma had assured him that the way he handled the evening completely changed her thoughts around giving someone else control. Then she wanted to do it again. So Wyatt spent the night worshipping his little bird.

"This is so exciting. I love that you wrapped it," Emma grinned, enjoying the disheveled look and odd creases in the paper.

'Are you teasing me?'

"No. I'm serious. The gifts I received over the last few years always came from a professional service. This feels more personal."

Wyatt smiled, pleased with himself for inadvertently doing something she enjoyed.

When Emma finally got all the paper off, she found a rather utilitarian pair of black pants and a long-sleeved, plum shirt, both plain, sturdy, and odd fabrics. The leggings were a lot like her yoga pants only thicker, with gray patches over the knees, and the tag read wind- and waterproof. The shirt was merino wool, and while Emma had a tendency to get cold easily, this seemed a bit much for around the house.

"Um, thank you. These are, uh, very nice clothes."

'Put them on. :)'

"Oh, uh, of course. But I think I'll start the day in my new Christmas pajamas. That's what they always do in movies, right? Open gifts with the whole family in their sleepwear?"

Her question combined with the forced politeness about her gift made Wyatt chuckle, but he held his body rigid so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her. Probably a good thing she couldn't see him.

'Of course. You can wear your new clothes later.'

"Wonderful," Emma smiled, hoping she didn't offend him. Wyatt wasn't great with temperatures, so maybe he didn't realize those clothes were made for the arctic, not their living room. She hopped out of bed, quickly pulling on her reindeer and snowflake covered flannels. She couldn't wait a minute longer to finally give him his gift. She was already prepared if he hated it, but what terrified her was the thought that it might make him angry or worse... sad.

"Any chance you could go to the library and stay there until I come for you?"

'What are you up to, little bird?'

"It's your surprise, but you can't come out no matter what you hear."

'Should I be worried?'

"Promise me you'll stay in there. And no invisible peeking!"

'I promise. But if you scream, I'll be breaking that promise.'

"If I scream, I hope you would," she laughed. "Now, get your butt down there. I have a Christmas present to set up."

For the next half hour, Wyatt sat in the library, trying to read while it sounded like his little bird was tearing the house down. Walls vibrated all around him from the unmistakable sound of a hammer, and he desperately wanted to see what she was up to.

Finally, the barn door of the library slid open, and Emma glanced inside with a nervous smile which quickly spread into a huge grin when she saw Wyatt's shirt and jeans from earlier had been replaced with the footie pajamas covered in fish. He stood, setting the latest Sarah J. Maas book on the leather recliner and gave her a little spin, revealing the butt flap hanging down in the back. Emma laughed, some of her nervousness fading. He looked ridiculous and somehow that only made him more perfect in her eyes.

"You look very debonair," she teased, making him laugh. These days, seeing Wyatt's shoulders shake was the sweetest sound. "Okay, if you hate this, that's totally fine. We can take everything down."

Wyatt followed a very nervous Emma out of the room, and the first thing he noticed was a pair of pictures to the left and right of the space they used for the projector. Walking over, he inhaled sharply when he saw what she had matted and framed... his black and white photos.

He remembered taking both of them, each at the local marina. One was on the commercial side when a large clamming boat was coming in with dramatic storm clouds filling the sky, and the other was from his own boathouse, some random skiff returning with a father and son who had been out fishing.

Emma pinched his sleeve and gently led him down the hall that now had a series of old windmills and barns in rustic wood frames. These had been part of the portfolio he had submitted which earned him the scholarship in Seattle. When Lisa made him choose, Wyatt had boxed them away and never looked back. Seeing them now, proudly displayed in their home, was something he didn't even realize he needed, like a part of himself just returned.

Emma continued walking towards the kitchen. Above the dining table hung a large, detailed photo of a rooster proudly standing by a tree that he had randomly taken over at Bert's farm. Back in the front living room were three more framed prints—the peaks around Mt. Olympus, Lake Angeles completely frozen during one of his many winter hikes, and a thick blanket of fog that had settled over the treetops in a valley.

Wyatt remained speechless as she led him up the stairs where there was a series of his photos from around town, candid shots of local faces, including one of his parents sitting on their old porch swing. He felt his eyes burn and wondered if it was possible for him to cry. Emma finally took him into the bedroom that she had recently come to consider as theirs. Above the bed was a photo that had taken him years to perfect, a full moon rising over Mount Rainier.

"That's my favorite," she said softly.

"Mine too," Wyatt agreed, his tone matching hers.

'You have outdone yourself, little bird. This is... ... ... it's the best Christmas present I've ever received.'

"I was worried I may have overstepped," she admitted.

'Not at all. I love them. Feels a bit unreal actually. No one has ever supported my photography before.'

"Not even your parents?"

'They thought it was a nice hobby, but parents are different. My brother, Mike, not even Lisa would hang my photos.'

"You're incredibly talented. Even if we weren't doing this thing together," she said awkwardly, gesturing between the two of them, "I would still put these on my walls."

"You are amazing, little bird. And I'm going to break your heart," he sighed, unwilling to broach the conversation today.

'I was accepted to the Seattle Academy of Fine Arts, even got a scholarship, but Lisa drew the line, refusing to live the life of a starving artist. These are all that's left of that dream.'

"The more you talk about her, the less I understand your marriage," Emma grumbled, angry on his behalf.

"Touché, little bird," he grinned, taking in her puckered brow and thinned lips.

They finally made their way back to the remaining gifts under the tree. Emma beamed at seeing all the packages and instantly knew several were books. Choosing from her infinite 'to be read' list was nearly impossible, so the real gift was having someone pick which ones to buy. And it seemed he picked several.

Wyatt couldn't think of anything he could possibly want or need, seeing as he was dead, but Emma surprised him. There was an entire tin of homemade fudge, a tub of her soft molasses cookies, which after one taste had become his new favorite, and then one final large box. Tearing through the paper, he paused, unsure about how to feel.

"I didn't really know what I was doing. The clerk said your photos were something called medium format, so he suggested the Fuji six-by-nine. But then he kinda explained 120 film versus 35mm, and so I grabbed the Leica as well."

'These are insanely expensive cameras, little bird. I can't accept this.'

"Well, seeing as they're used, I'm not sure the store will take them back. I got a really good deal, and it's not like you haven't done just as much for me."

'I gave you orgasms and bought stuff with your own money.'

"You've saved me a fortune in home repair and therapy," she said with a small laugh. "Wyatt, if you hadn't been here, I don't want to think what the last three months would have been like."

"Me either, little bird. You've changed everything," he said, but chose to type something that didn't make him question all these feelings.

'You'd still be sleeping in a mound of sheets and blankets in the den. ;)'

"Aren't you a comedian," Emma scowled playfully.

'Open the rest of your gifts, little bird.'

Emma had already unwrapped all the books, and she also opened more of the odd clothing, pants that zipped off at the knee, a super soft fleece pullover, and a whole lot of wool—socks, bralettes, tight shirts, even a beanie. She wondered if this was his way of saying no more fires burning in the house twenty-four-seven. If he didn't want to chop the wood or keep the fireplaces going, all he had to do was say so. Or maybe it was her style he didn't care for. She had been dressing more relaxed than before. Todd always wanted her to wear skirts and dresses. Perhaps Wyatt preferred winter athletic gear?

He tossed her another hysterically wrapped bundle that had as much tape as it did paper and weighed practically nothing. Inside was a pouch that Emma unzipped, revealing a black puffy jacket. It had the same label as most of the other clothing, and she puzzled at yet another weird winter gift.

"I thought Patagonia was in South America," she said quietly.

'Last one. Then it will all make sense.'

Wyatt handed her a heavy and somewhat large box that she hoped was full of more books, but that wouldn't help solve the mystery piles of clothing. Carefully undoing the paper, Emma lifted the lid, revealing a bulky pair of black, insulated hiking boots made from leather and more wool. Again, the features included waterproof and had an odd brand name, Oboz. Where did he shop?

'It's the tallest boot they make, so they should keep your feet nice and toasty.'

"Thanks?" Emma mumbled, confused.

'You're not the easiest person to buy for.'

"You could have stopped with my Christmas kit last night, and I would have been happy."

"That's what makes you so perfect," Wyatt sighed, wondering how far he was going to let this go before shutting it down. If he was falling for the girl, was it such an absurd thought that she might be falling for him, even if he was dead?

Wyatt went over to the hearth and lifted both overflowing stockings, carrying them back to the couch where Emma sat curled up in the corner surrounded by hiking gear. Obviously, she had yet to put it together, and that made him even more excited. It had taken him weeks to come up with the perfect gift, but the things he wrapped were not it. He just needed to get her ready.

"I've never had a stocking. Can I just dump it out?" Emma asked, bouncing in place.

Wyatt laughed and flipped his over in answer to her question. Emma had filled the whole thing with beef jerky and rolls of film. He had enough to shoot for months before needing anything else.

'You're incredible. I can't wait to take new pictures... and eat my weight in jerky.'

Emma beamed and dumped hers out. Wyatt had thrown in a bit of everything. There were a ton of her favorite hard caramels she liked to suck on when she worked, colored pens, every size and color Post-it known to man, a new peppermint candle, a Moleskine journal as he realized her last one was nearly full, and a box of word magnets for the fridge.

"You know me better than I thought," she said with a watery smile.

'I pay attention.'

"What's this?" Emma asked, finding a small, wrapped box in the pile.

"The only true gift worthy of you," he smiled softly. Wyatt had made eight before the ninth one finally looked like what he wanted.

'Open it.'

Emma removed the paper from the final gift, her lips parting when she raised the velvet lid of the jewelry box. Inside was a beautiful, polished-wood hummingbird. Its tiny body was curved, the long beak and tail feathers in an elegant arc, and its wings were up in one solid piece but lightly carved on both sides. A hoop was affixed to the top of the wings, and the pendant hung from a thin silver chain.

"It's beautiful. Where did you get this?"

'I bought the necklace, but I carved the pendant. I've decided my little bird reminds me of a hummingbird, a lovely, tiny creature always flitting about.'

"And skittish as hell," he added to himself.

"I can't believe you made this! You are so very talented. I love it," she smiled, reaching up to clasp it around her slender neck. Wyatt felt a deep sense of pride and possessiveness seeing his creation against her flesh, and he let himself imagine her wearing a different piece of jewelry that would mark her as his. If only this was another life, one where he could pursue her as a real man, but that future would never be, and Wyatt needed to remember where the lines were drawn. He was dead, and one day, she would need to move on.

'Alright, upstairs. For my next surprise, I need you to wear all the clothes I give you.'

"Next surprise? Are we going somewhere?"

'It's a SURPRISE.'

"But it's Christmas. I kind of thought we could do more clothing optional things," Emma said quietly, her cheeks burning with the suggestion.

Wyatt grinned and typed out his response.

'I'll have you naked again before the day is over. I promise. For now, we're going out.'

"But it's so cold, and nothing will be open."

'Hence the warm clothes, and where we're going doesn't have hours of operation.'

"Wyatt, I don't ski or snowboard or even skate. In fact, I'm terrible at most athletic things."

'That's why I found you the very best boots for icy conditions.'

"Ice?" Emma asked, peaking out the window. "There's no ice out there."

'There will be. Now, come on!'