AN: Thank you for all your lovely reviews.

Playlist will probably go up on my profile tonight. Thanks to the always amazing JosieSwan, beta extroadinaire :)

Spotted: Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf already facing off, less than 6 hours into their romantic getaway for two-or for ten. The pressure's on for Mr. Bass to make this a holiday to remember. Will the Queen B get scrooged or can her beloved produce a Christmas miracle?

"You're mad," Chuck stated, taking in every single molecule of Blair's tense posture. She'd been giving him the frigid shoulder ever since he'd recommended they wait in the limos while the drivers braved the snowy drive to find shovels at the house.

"Actually no. I'm furious," Blair snapped. "This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. At all."

"Believe me, this wasn't what I'd planned," Chuck murmured.

"And what did you plan exactly, Bass?" Blair asked, eyeing him from her vantage point in the corner of the limo.

"You. Me. A few bottles of '95 Dom. The hot tub. Among other things."

Blair swallowed hard, imagining the hot bubbles skimming her skin, followed by Chuck's hands. "Are we giving up on that plan?"

"We're not if we can ever get up to the lodge," Chuck said. "Which, where the hell are the drivers? They were supposed to be back with the shovels by now."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to shovel snow. That trumps hot tubs any day of the week."

"Hot tub is still happening; we just have to shovel our way there," Chuck said. "Whenever those inept morons actually get back with the shovels."

Blair sighed and stared at the window into the darkness. "It'll be fine, B," Serena reassured her from the opposite seat, where she was sitting with Dan. "There'll be plenty of time for the hot tub later."

"I'll need the hot tub after this evening," Dan said.

"Who said you were invited, Brooklyn?" Chuck sneered from his side of the limo.

"Don't mind him," Blair said. "He gets a little touchy when things don't go his way."

"Or when I'm forced to perform physical labor," Chuck said.

There was a sharp rap on the limo window. Chuck hit the button to lower the window a lot harder than he needed to. "Yes?" he snapped.

It was Nate. "Shovels are here. Tell the girls that it's time to see them in action."

"Girls?" Dan asked. "What about me?"

Chuck shut the window. "He was referring to you," he said.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Blair said, gingerly holding the shovel Nate had just handed her between two of her fingers.

"B, it's just a shovel," Serena said. "And you're wearing leather gloves."

"Lined in cashmere. If I lose a finger because of this weather, I'll never forgive Chuck."

"That's not true. We both know that you'd forgive Chuck just about anything. You even forgave him for Tuscany and his bevy of foreign beauties from last summer," Serena said, rolling her eyes.

Blair glared at her best friend. "I haven't necessarily forgiven him for that. Besides, I'm fairly sure on a scale of terrible crimes that Bass has perpetrated against me, this might rank above Tuscany."

"Blair, be serious," Serena said. "It's not so bad. The more we all help, the sooner we can get up to the lodge with our luggage and you and Chuck and go into the hot tub, just like he'd planned. At least he's here, which is more than you could say for Tuscany."

"I wonder what else he has planned," Blair wondered as she actually deigned to put a third finger onto the dirty shovel handle.

"Aaaaaand that's where this conversation ends," Serena said with a disgusted shiver. "I've never understood you two. I'm supportive of you always, you know that, but I don't want to ever think about you and Chuck that way."

Blair shrugged, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. "I had to watch you and Dan making out all over the limo for hours. After that, I think I'm entitled to a little supposition on what Chuck might have had planned for us."

"I think you're selling him a little short, B, if you really honestly think that Chuck is going to take this lying down and not do everything in his not inconsiderable power to turn the trip around. He is a Bass."

"I suppose you're right. I should be staying positive and hmmm, let's say. . .encouraging him to try his hardest, don't you think, S?" Blair turned around towards where the boys were grouped together, trying to formulate their plan of attack.

Serena smirked at Blair's innocent tone. "And what did you have in mind, Queen B?"

"First off, we should really be taking this time to appreciate what we have, don't you think?" Blair said sweetly. "We're going to go watch them shovel. Despite that Bass claims not to enjoy anything athletic, he has a rather admirable body. And Nathaniel, well, we all know about that. I'll leave all Humphrey observations to you."

"But B, we're supposed to be helping them—not watching."

Blair shot Serena her patented Queen B look. "They don't actually expect us to help them. Trust me."

Blair strutted over to where the boys were arguing over who was going to do what. "It's a driveway; it's covered in snow," Erik said, annoyed, "who cares who shovels what? It's all the same."

"Not true, little brother," Chuck snapped, his temper clearly fraying. "Oh good, the Queen and the Princess have finally decided to pitch in."

Blair's eyes narrowed at Chuck, and everyone held their breath. Asking Blair Waldorf to shovel a driveway was incomprehensible, but he didn't appear to be in the mood to let her inactivity slide.

"Bass, there better be a mind-blowing trip to the hot tub after this."

"Believe me, Waldorf. There won't be any fuses left intact after I get my hands on you."

"Ew," Serena said.

"Does anyone else feel like they need a handy wipe?" Jenny asked, grimacing.

"Fine. But only because I have some real fuses that need blowing, Bass. And I missed yoga last week."

Chuck took her arm and led her up to an uncleared area. "Just shovel this path," he said patiently, "and make sure you overturn the snow away from the drive."

"I cannot believe you are making me do this, Bass," Blair said between clenched teeth as she gripped her shovel, screw how dirty it was. She was going to use it to commit a Bass murder.

"It'll be worth it. You said so yourself."

"Does that mean you've decided it's worth it?"

Chuck smiled inscrutably. "Are you asking me if you're worth witnessing Daniel Humphrey sticking his tongue down my sister's throat, little J giving me death glares, Nate groping Vanessa, and then shoveling snow?"

Blair gulped. She wasn't entirely sure Chuck thought anyone was worth all that. Suddenly, she wasn't so keen on hearing his answer. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes. And you'd be worth even more. Not that I want to know what that would be." He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "Now get to work, Waldorf."

As Chuck walked away, Blair looked down at her shovel, then across at Serena, who was clearly inept as she was managing to get more snow on her than she was off the road. I can at least do better than that, Blair thought. She shoved the shovel in to the top layer of snow, thanking god at least it was light and fluffy, and overturned it next to the road.

"Not that bad, Waldorf," she reassured herself. "See? Totally painless." Nevermind that it was fucking cold and dark. They'd be done in no time, and she had a hot tub to look forward to. Hot water and Chuck next to her, maybe giving her a massage. . .

"Shovel harder, S," Blair barked, digging her shovel in to the snow next to her. "I've got somewhere I need to be."

Two hours later, Blair was no longer feeling confident that they'd be done soon. Soon would have been an hour and a half ago.

"This is torture," Serena whined, stopping, her breath coming out in short, wispy pants. "I should have spent more time in the gym."

"I can't even feel my toes. I'm sure I'm going to lose all of them to hypothermia. When we get back to civilization, I'm filing a complaint with Prada."

"I don't think that Prada probably expected that you'd be wearing your boots outside, in the snow, for hours," Dan observed.

"I don't care," Blair argued, her temper more razor sharp than ever, "this is supposed to be high quality merchandise. They should be planning for all eventualities."

"Yeah, because Prada-wearing socialites tend to shovel snow on a frequent basis."

Blair let her shovel fall into the snow. "That's it. I need a break."

"You should join Chuck. It appears he's taking another break," Dan said snidely, pointing his shovel in the direction of where Chuck was leaning on the back of his limo.

"I'll be back," Blair huffed. "I'm still holding out a tiny particle of hope that there's a hot tub for me somewhere at the end of this insufferable experience."

"I'm timing you," Dan called as Blair took off to where Chuck stood.

"You better not be losing any appendages to frostbite," she said, coming to a stop in front of where he was lounging against the limo.

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "And what appendages are you concerned about, Waldorf?"

"Your toes of course, moron. I don't want to have to dig our way to a hospital."

"No need to worry. I put different shoes on. Unlike my dear sister, I knew to come at least partially prepared."

"Well, good for you. But I'll have you know, Prada's going to be hearing from me about the shoddy quality of their products."

Chuck's expression instantly turned concerned. "Are your feet cold?" he asked.

Blair shrugged. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I can't really feel them."

"Maybe you should sit in the limo for a few minutes. Warm your feet up."

"I'm fine, Bass," Blair said flippantly, turning away from his grasping arm. "I'd better get back to shoveling, or else we'll never get to the lodge."

"Don't be daft, Blair. Are your feet really alright?" There was an edge to Chuck's voice that surprised Blair.

"You're really worried," she asked with surprise.

"Of course I'm worried. You're Blair Waldorf. Whatever you choose to do, you do it 200%. Including shoveling snow. To get that lodge, you'd be shoveling snow on your death bed. Besides, don't think I've missed the way your ass wiggles when you bend over."

"I should be flattered that you're concerned for my wellbeing, Bass," Blair murmured, turning back and pinning him to the limo trunk. "But, I'm just fine. Or else I will be when it's just you and me, in the hot tub." She ran her gloved hands up his tightly buttoned coat, feeling him tense underneath her touch. She could gloat about how much he clearly wanted her, or she could take the high road. Decisions, Blair thought, decisions . . .

"Now that's the Blair I remember—so incredibly eager."

"I've only improved with age, Bass." She leaned in, until their breath mingled, and for a brief second, she debated kissing him again, right here, right now. They'd been waiting for so long, for all those endless days and even more endless lonely nights. She wanted it to be perfect when they came together, and this wasn't exactly the most optimal situation.

Besides, she had a feeling that once they started, it was going to be almost impossible to stop.

So she pulled away. "I've got to get back to work. And so do you." She tapped him lightly on the cheek with her finger, and then turned to go back to her shovel. Blair knew he was watching her, so she put an extra bit of swagger in her step—at least as much as she could when she was trying not to slip on a patch of ice and fall on her ass.

Reaching her shovel, Blair picked it up with a glare of distaste and eyed the distance they still had to go. She was pretty sure, though it was still so dark, that she could make out the outline of the lodge now.

"Is Chuck alright?" Serena asked slyly.

"He's fine," Blair retorted. "No need to worry."

They shoveled in silence for a while, each of them focusing on the task at hand, before Dan spoke up. "You know, Blair, I never thought I'd say this, but you're taking this all pretty well. Even Chuck is." He gestured to where the Bass heir was shoveling up a fury of snow. Blair smiled, knowing exactly why he was so eager to get to the lodge.

"We're not quite the spoiled little brats you think we are," Blair huffed. "I think the person who's complained the most is little J." She gazed over at where Jenny was glaring at Nate and Vanessa, who were flirting more than shoveling.

"She's delicate," Dan defended.

"And whiny," Blair added. "She looks like a toothpick, but she's hardier than she looks."

"And you would know. . .?" Dan asked.

"Come on, Humphrey. What's it going to take to convince you that your little sister is just as conniving and bitchy as me?"

"B," Serena interjected warningly, but Blair just brushed her off.

"Seriously. How many society events has she crashed? And what about that little stunt she pulled last year when she snuck Erik out of the Ostroff Center? She even ruled the annual Waldorf soiree. A delicate flower couldn't possibly pull that off. Trust me, Humphrey, like knows like."

"I guess," he said after considering her words for a minute, "I hadn't ever thought about her in that way. She's my little sister."

"Not so little anymore," Blair said matter-of-factly. "Going after Nate? That pretty much proved she's grown up."

"I have to side with Blair on this," Serena said. "I know it's hard to see your siblings as grown up—I went through the same thing with Erik—but it's time to face it, Dan. Little J isn't so little."

"Truthfully," Blair continued, as she continued to look over at the love triangle in action, "I think Abrams is in over her head with Nate. Little J could manage him so much better. And don't mistake me, Nate definitely needs to be managed."

"You would know," Dan said darkly. "Though to be honest, I'd rather he not be with either of them."

"But he's your friend," Serena said naively.

"Exactly," Dan said.

"I think that'll be a good way to pass the time up here," Blair concluded. "Abrams needs to be sent packing."

"What about what Nate wants?" Dan asked.

Blair rolled her eyes as she shoveled. "Don't be ridiculous, Humphrey. Nate doesn't care either way. He clearly likes both of them."

"What about you spending time with Chuck? Isn't that going to pass the time?" Serena inquired.

"Don't be ridiculous," Blair snapped. "I mean, obviously, yes, I am mainly here for Chuck. But I need a side project. Chuck is clearly ready to fall back in line. I just need to make him sweat it out a little. And force him to finally confess his undying love."

"That sounds like a pretty full plate to me," Dan said. "Chuck Bass admitting he loves someone? I didn't know that was actually possible."

"It is. And I can do it. If anyone could, it would be me."

"We know he loves you, B. You shouldn't worry. He clearly brought you here so he could have the most romantic atmosphere possible when he said it for the first time," Serena soothed.

"Romantic atmosphere or not. . .I won't forget that he still has to say it. I wonder if he actually believes that I'll just let it slide if he woos me with mistletoe and gifts."

"And hot tubs," Dan added unhelpfully.

"He'll say it," Serena repeated, sending a shovelful of snow in Dan's general vicinity.

"He'd better," Blair said, glancing over to where Chuck was standing. "If he's dragged me all the way up here, to the middle of nowhere, and then makes me shovel snow, he'd better."

"I'll say this. I never thought I'd ever see the great Chuck Bass performing manual labor. If he's doing that, all for you, then he must love you," Dan said.

Blair wanted to believe it was true, that the whole purpose of this trip had been to show her how much he cared before he actually told her those three words, eight letters, but the doubts still lingered. And the only thing that would put them to rest for good would be to hear Chuck utter them out loud. To her.

Half an hour later, the group finally reached the end of the drive. The drivers jogged back to the limos and drove up to the front of the lodge, which was, despite all Blair had seen in her pampered life, rather impressive, even for a Bass residence.

She wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting, it hadn't been this hugely imposing edifice constructed almost entirely from logs. But despite its size, it didn't look like a Lincoln Log Tara, but instead like a big rambling building that sprawled across the forest backdrop. Blair couldn't imagine Big Bad Bart Bass purchasing such a homey looking structure, and she glanced sideways at Chuck, who was supervising the unpacking of the limos.

"This place is amazing," Vanessa said with the awe in her voice that Blair would never allow to outwardly show. But this was Abrams, who lived in a Brooklyn hovel. A McDonalds would probably look like a mansion to her.

Chuck shrugged. "It suffices. I'm not sure how long Bart will actually hold onto it, so I thought we'd enjoy it while he still owned it."

"Well it's lovely, Chuck. When Lily said that Bart was purchasing property upstate, I had no idea this was what she was referring to," Serena said.

Blair decided that she'd been outside just about long enough, thank you very much, and she was ready to go inside and try to feel her toes again. "Bass," she snapped, as he approached her, "since we don't have any staff, does that mean we should just fend for ourselves?"

He nodded. "I suppose just take whatever rooms you want. There's plenty to go around. Except," and he turned to Blair, zeroing in on her with a sudden intensity and focus, "for you. You're staying with me. In the master suite."

Blair gaped a little. She'd half-expected that he'd sneak into her room sooner rather than later, but she hadn't exactly anticipated that Chuck would be insisting, and in front of everyone, that they share a room. That was tantamount to announcing they were officially a couple. Not just the casual, we're up here for a weekend fling kind of couple, either. Chuck, Blair realized, was incredibly serious.

"Um, alright. I can manage that, I suppose," she said lightly, trying to recover the gift of speech after the shock of her life. Chuck Bass—wanting to get serious. Wanting to spend the entire night with her. Maybe, she thought as she smiled up at him, he would be saying the three words, eight letters to her after all.

"You'll know which one is the master suite, Waldorf," he said, with a gentle push in the direction of the front door. "Find it, and I'll send your bags up."

"Our bags, Bass," Blair corrected him a trifle breathlessly, acutely aware that everyone had stopped what they were doing and was watching the two of them.

"Right," he smiled. "Our bags."

As Blair turned and made her way into the huge foyer, she was sure she was smiling just a tad bit goofily. She didn't even care that the house was cold and dark, clearly without any staff. And with one more lovesick glance down at Chuck as he directed the drivers carting the luggage in, she made her way up the huge curving staircase.

There were two hallways at the top of the stairs, and she took the first, moving swiftly, opening one door after another, each room lovely but clearly not the master suite. Chuck had said she would know it when she saw it, Blair thought impatiently, but where was it? She was desperate to take her boots off and try to bring some semblance of warmth to her toes.

Then, she saw the huge double doors at the end of the hall, around a corner, and she knew she'd found it. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handles, and, thank god she was alone, just gasped.

It was enormous—the spacious penthouse she and Eleanor shared probably could fit in the suite comfortably, Blair thought with wonder as she stepped inside the room.

And it wasn't only the size of the suite that took her breath away; it was the sheer luxury. Bearskin rugs were spread over the shining wood floor in front of a massive stone fireplace that she could probably stand in comfortably. There were low slung, comfortable looking couches, and tables, and another set of glass double doors that appeared to lead to a private balcony.

Blair turned, looking for more doors, for the bedroom, and saw a single door out of the corner of her eye. But first, she collapsed onto the couch, wiggling out of her heavy, wet coat and leaning over to finally unzip her boots. Struggling with her cold clumsy fingers inside her leather gloves, she reluctantly pulled them off, exhaling sharply as her already-cold skin met even colder air. She really hoped that Chuck could figure out how to get the heat working in this house, because they really needed some warmth.

Leaning over again, she quickly unzipped her boots and stood up, padding over in her socks to the bedroom door. She opened it and felt that hard knot of fear that she'd been carrying around ever since Tuscany begin to unravel.

The bed was unsurprisingly enormous, and piled high with pillows and a fluffy white feather comforter lined in what looked like red flannel, but she discovered was actually cashmere when she reached out to touch it. There were double walk-in closets, and a white and forest green marble bathroom complete with Jacuzzi tub and a shower the size of a small room.

Stupidly, she glanced in the mirror in the bathroom, and groaned out loud. Her hair was a windblown mass of frizzy, wet locks. Her cheeks were bright red and no doubt chapped from the biting wind outside. Blair tried to repair the damage, but finally just gave up. After all, Chuck had already seen her like this; what was the point of worrying over a reaction that hadn't happened?

After she was done exploring the other rooms of the suite, Blair returned to the bedroom and eyed the bed with longing. She couldn't wait to climb up into that feathery softness. . .with Chuck.

"I see you found what you were looking for."

Blair turned to see Chuck leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, a lazy smile on his face. "I did, yes," she said, all too aware that while his words might not have had a double meaning, hers definitely did.

"This place is beautiful," she continued. "You should convince Bart not to sell. Lily would love it up here."

Chuck just smiled again, giving her a look that she couldn't decipher. Or maybe she was just too tired to think properly. Before she could figure out exactly what he meant, the drivers arrived with their luggage.

"Thank god," Blair said, reaching for her suitcases. She was dying to get out of these cold, wet clothes.

"That eager to get undressed, darling?" Chuck asked facetiously as he returned to the room, having made sure that everyone was settled.

Blair glared. "I've spent half my evening watching Serena make out with Dan, and the other half outside in a cold, wet snowstorm. I'm considering burning this outfit because of its unlucky properties."

"Let me help you with that," Chuck said softly as she began to unwind her scarf from around her neck. "You look tired."

Blair resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew exactly how awful she looked. "If you insist," she said as he unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and let the dripping material drop the floor with unattractive plop. She reached up for his scarf and did the same, and then began to unbutton his coat.

Their eyes locked, and though the room had definitely been on the chilly side only a moment before, it was suddenly a bit warmer. "Hot tub?" Chuck asked, his voice deep and gravely. "I believe I owe you one."

"You do, Bass," Blair said a little breathlessly. "Where is it?"

"Outside, on our balcony I think."

"How romantic," Blair couldn't help saying. "Are you sure that you're really Chuck Bass?"

Chuck turned to look at her, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Why don't we find out?" he said.

He leaned in, brushing his lips across hers. "And do I kiss like Chuck does?"

"That wasn't an accurate sample," she retorted, barely able to keep a straight face. "You're going to have to try that again."

This time, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, hot and heavy and wild. They'd never been able to do things in half-measures, and with all the time apart, longing for each other, it appeared that Blair and Chuck were as combustible as ever.

They broke apart breathlessly. "So?" he groaned as she pushed his coat to the ground, not caring where it fell. "Am I still Chuck?"

"Yes. You're still Chuck. And I'm still Blair."

"Good to know," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "With that important question settled, shall we go find the hot tub?"

"That could be acceptable," Blair said coyly, slipping out his grasp. She headed out of the bedroom, and across the sitting room, until she stopped in front of the glass double doors that led out to the balcony.

"Is it out here?" Blair asked.

"I believe so, yes."

Blair opened the door only to shriek at the sudden gust of frigid air and snow that blew in her face. Wrestling with the door, she finally shut it, shaking the snow off her hair. "That, Bass, is not happening. Not even for you."

"What is it?" Chuck asked, coming up behind her.

"The hot tub is not only outside, which is a locale that I think we've exhausted the possibilities of, but on top of that, it's covered in more snow."

"And let me guess, we've also exhausted the possibilities of shoveling."

Blair's eyes narrowed at Chuck's expression. "You seem far too amused about this."

"Honestly, I'm more amused by the number of things that have gone wrong in the last six hours."

Blair didn't want to dwell on any more wrongs; she only wanted to think of all the things that could go right. Like her three words, eight letters that she was still desperate to hear.

"I need hot water," she announced. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted and it's late." And without a single glance in his direction, she flounced off to the bathroom, disappointed in the way this whole evening had turned out. It was nothing like how she'd imagined it.

Her entire shower, Blair expected to see the fogged glass door open. When it didn't, even after she'd nearly drowned herself in hot water, she couldn't help but feel even more frustrated. Why hadn't Chuck come after her? Didn't he want to take a shower with her? She'd practically issued him an engraved, gilded invitation to join her, but he hadn't. Maybe, she thought with dismay, he was retreating again. The shared suite, our bags, maybe it had all been just too much for his Basshole personality to handle.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she exited the shower, feeling more annoyed by the second, and walked into the bedroom to find a hair brush. To her surprise, Chuck was sitting on the bed, attired in a navy blue silk robe, his hair wet from his own shower.

"Where were you?" Blair asked, jerking the zipper of her Louis Vuitton with a bit more force than was entirely necessary. "I practically begged you to join me."

Chuck sighed. "Blair, it's 2 in the morning. I just spent the last three hours shoveling snow and calling every staffing agency in the tri-state area so that when we wake up tomorrow, we won't have to cook our own eggs. I'm a little tired."

"Too tired to be with me?" she hissed. "Fine. If that's the way you want it." She turned on her heel and stomped back into the bathroom, her feet making slapping sounds on the marble floor. She attacked her hair, wielding the brush like a vengeful Joan of Arc with a flaming sword.

"Is that really what you wanted for us? A quickie in the shower?" Chuck asked, coming up behind her.

Blair paused, considering his words. Was that what she had really wanted? She was tired too-she had just assumed that the whole reason for her presence in the master suite was for her to be available for the kind of activity he'd just foregone. Was it possible that Chuck Bass wanted to just be with her, not necessarily just for sex?

"No," she said quietly. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"I just want you," he said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her small frame. "In bed, out of bed, just with me. I thought you understood that."

"How could I?" she asked hesitantly. "You've never said so before. In fact, you've spent most of the last year running away from me."

"A mistake that I intend to rectify," Chuck said apologetically. "I messed up. I'm sure I'll mess up again. But for right now, dry your hair and let's go to bed."

"Just sleeping?" Blair asked.

"Just sleeping. Though," he said with a smirk, "don't be surprised if I change my mind in the morning." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and was gone.

Blair turned to the mirror, staring at her face, but not recognizing the girl staring back at her, with wide, dark eyes, afraid of jumping but even more afraid of not jumping. What had changed so abruptly for Chuck that he was now not only ready to face her, but that he was ready to open his heart? Before she leapt, Blair realized, she was going to have to figure out what exactly had changed for him-what had brought about this new and improved version of Chuck Bass.

Fifteen minutes later, hair blown dry, Blair walked out into the darkened bedroom to find Chuck already sprawled out across the bed, asleep. Smiling, she pulled the sheets back and crawled into bed next to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she closed her eyes and fell alseep almost the second her head hit the pillow.

Without the hot tub, will Chuck be able to melt our Queen B's frozen heart-and frozen toes? Or is he still full of hot air?