Chapter 3

Blair had always enjoyed winter in New York. The city was beautiful with sheets of white snow glistening against the backdrop of a million twinkling lights. At Christmas, especially, the atmosphere was enchanting and romantic. As a child, she never thought that she would see any place that could compete with Manhattan in December.

Now, as an adult, she still believed that to be true, but she had to admit that there was something magical about a mountain Christmas. When she and Chuck returned to the resort, it was nearing sunset, and the vibrant blue sky from the afternoon settled into the navy horizon all around them.

Chuck turned off the engine and exited the truck, blowing hot air into his palms and rubbing his hands together for warmth, as he scurried to the passenger's side of the vehicle to help her down from her seat. When he opened the door and reached for her hand, she chuckled at his uncharacteristic chivalry. "Thanks," she grinned, "But I really am capable of getting out of a vehicle on my own."

"Maybe I jinxed you when I mentioned you busting your ass on the pavement earlier," he wrapped his hand firmly around her wrist as she stepped onto the footboard. "Can't be too careful, now can we? I don't foresee us making it to a hospital any time soon."

She slid down to the ground from the height of the truck, and his free arm wound naturally around her waist as an added precaution. Butterflies swarmed through her stomach, inspiring the rapid thumping of her heart. He was so gentle with her now compared to the coolness of their first week together. It was a pity that his softer side was wasted on her, she thought, because, if he really tried, he could make a great partner. She exhaled sharply, pushing all of those irresponsible thoughts to the furthest parts of her mind. He was her boss. He was a womanizer. He had no plans for romantic entanglements beyond one-night-stands. Entertaining what-ifs was sure to get her in trouble.

She cleared her throat, and he immediately dropped his hands to his side now that she was on solid ground. "It's so quiet," she observed, looking around at the property.

"The calm before the storm," Chuck commented, listening to the light patter of the snow flurries melting against the fallen leaves.

"It's peaceful in a way that the city isn't, even when the streets are quiet. Silence in the city can be so unnerving, so loud when you're used to the daily bustle of traffic and crowds, but, here, it's soothing."

He studied her carefully. "You don't allow yourself to rest much, do you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, as they walked side by side toward their cabins.

"It's pretty clear that you're a workaholic," he explained. "You've worked twelve-hour days since you've been here. It's the same in New York, isn't it? I have a feeling that you don't even know how to let yourself relax."

She raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I like to stay busy. I'm ambitious, and laziness will only cost me in the long run. It's a lot harder for a woman to assert herself –"

"Oh," he chuckled, "You have no problem asserting yourself."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I wasn't about to let you derail my one chance to prove to my bitch of a boss that I'm capable of leading major projects."

"It was a compliment, Blair." His face softened as they reached the fork between their two cabins. Large, fluffy snowflakes began to spill from the sky around them, making Blair laugh as they melted against her face. Chuck turned toward her, a half-smirk on his face, and with slow movements, he extended his hand toward her temple. She inhaled in anticipation of his touch, but instead, he smoothed her slightly damp hair out of her face. Her cheeks reddened from the cold, and Chuck thought he'd never seen anyone more adorable than Blair with a pink cheeks and snowflakes sprinkled throughout her hair. His hand lowered to her shoulder, not yet ready to sever the small contact.

"Um," she glanced down at her feet, unable to handle the glimmer in his eyes, "Well, thank you for your help with the tree."

"You're very welcome," he gruffed, his fingers tightening reflexively on her shoulders as if he was holding her in place; he wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to part ways, but he didn't want to let her go inside just yet.

"I guess I should –" she hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward her cabin.

"Have dinner with me." It came out in a sudden rush, and he realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Her eyes widened at the insinuation in his words, and he immediately corrected himself. "I mean, all of the staff has already been sent home, but I had the cooking staff prepare dinner for me for a few days while I wait out the storm; all I have to do is put it in the oven. They didn't have any directives to prepare for your stay, so I don't think you really have anything to eat in there besides some snacks."

"I don't know," she hesitated, biting her lower lip and glancing toward her quiet cabin. "I do have some work to do before –"

"No, you don't." He placed his hand on her lower back, gently pushing her in the direction of his cabin. "It's just dinner. We've already had breakfast and lunch together during working hours; it's no different."

Blair nodded, "Okay."

She followed Chuck into the larger cabin, curiosity replacing her apprehension. As she expected, it was tidy with a focus on modern elegance. It wasn't overtly luxurious, but all of the furnishings were top-of-the-line. He took her purse from her, and pulling her coat from her shoulders, stored them both in the closet.

She took a seat on his navy sofa and watched him lower a casserole dish into the oven. "Look at you," she teased, "A regular Betty Crocker."

"Hardly." He laughed, as he uncorked a bottle of white wine. "My culinary skills begin and end with pre-heating the oven and microwaving leftovers. Had the kitchen staff not prepared dinner for the next few nights, I'd likely be living on bourbon and crackers until they returned. Are you telling me that you cook?" His eyes raked over her skeptically.

"Hey," she dropped her mouth open in feigned offense. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you can't drive, so I'd say it's safe to assume that you aren't cooking up a four-course meal regularly."

"True." She sighed in self-deprecation. "But I can bake. My father and I used to bake a pie every year for Thanksgiving; it's one of my favorite holiday memories."

He joined her on the couch after handing her a glass of wine. Their bodies naturally migrated toward one another until they were sitting nearly face-to-face. "You used to bake?" He picked up on use of the past tense. "You didn't bake a pie this past Thanksgiving?"

"No," she shook her head, focusing on the liquid swishing around her glass as she twirled the stem between her fingers. "Last year, my father realized that he's gay and moved to France with his lover." She swallowed hard, closing her eyes to ward off the tears that were threatening to surface. "My mother received the divorce papers the day before Thanksgiving." She looked up and found Chuck trained intently on her, listening carefully without a hint of pity in his eyes – maybe something more along the lines of understanding or empathy. She sniffled despite her efforts to maintain control of her emotions. "Needless to say, we didn't have the best holiday. I guess it's part of the reason that I didn't fight Angelica harder when she sent me here because it's a distraction from the turmoil at home. I've never had to celebrate two separate Christmases before, and I…" She swiped at her eyes in frustration as one solitary tear spilled from her eye.

He scooted a smidge closer and laced his fingers with hers, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "I haven't had an actual holiday of any kind with my dad in years – not Thanksgiving or Christmas. Hell, I'd take a Labor Day golf outing or a Fourth of July cookout – and I hate golf and barbeque." He laughed, and she couldn't help but smile sadly at the way he used dry humor to cover his own hurt feelings, much the way she'd trained herself to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

"I could just imagine you in cargo shorts and socks with sandals." She let out an unflattering laugh, snorting when she pictured the whole outfit in her head complete with a 'Kiss the Chef' apron.

When he looked back at her with the purest, most sheepish grin on his face, her heart performed several somersaults before plummeting into her stomach. "I've never worn socks with sandals in my life." He wrinkled his nose is disgust. "But since we are both woefully alone for the holidays, perhaps we can make up for that pathetic excuse for Thanksgiving with –" He stood and walked to the pantry, diggings through the few grocery items that his personal assistant had left. "Brownies from a box and a chicken casserole." He leaned against the counter, and she saw an uncertainty in his eyes when he said, "It's not turkey and homemade pie, and I'm not your family, but…"

"It's perfect," she interrupted, joining him at the kitchen island.

The timer beeped, indicating that the casserole was ready, so Chuck donned oven mitts, a sight that Blair found absurdly adorable, and pulled the piping hot dish from the oven. While he scooped out generous servings of chicken casserole and Caesar salad onto each of their plates, Blair set the table with utensils and napkins. "This beats eating alone," Chuck said quietly, pulling Blair's chair out for her and lighting a candle on the center of the table before taking his own seat.

"Thank you for inviting me."

"Now I couldn't let you go hungry, could I?" He plucked a roll from the basket on the table. "Would you have really gone back to your place to work if I hadn't invited you?"

"Probably."

"Well, then, I'm glad you're here," he raised his glass to hers.

"So am I." She took a sip from her wine glass, a little unnerved by the unexpected turn of events that led her here.

"What do you do at home – I mean in New York – to relax, to just get your mind off everything? You can't work all the time; there has to be something…"

"Work is the best distraction, honestly, because there's nothing personal about it. I can push everything else away." She stood from the table, gathering both of their plates to take to the sink after they finished eating. "But, when I'm really overwhelmed, I like to feed the ducks at the park."

"Maybe when we get back -" He averted his eyes from hers, setting about the kitchen to gather baking supplies. "Maybe you'd like some company…there are a lot of ducks."

She studied him while she rinsed the plates, trying to figure out if there was a deeper motive in his question, but he refused to look at her. "Yeah," she nodded softly. "Sure. Between the two of us, not a single duck in all of New York will go hungry."

He finally looked up at her, his unsteady heart rate speeding up when their eyes connected. He inhaled deeply. "Okay, can you grab the eggs from the fridge?"

She set them down beside him. "Do you have a hand mixer?"

"Uh," He opened the utensil drawer. "I have no idea."

She laughed. "We're quite the pair. We'll be lucky if we don't burn the place down." As she bent over to rifle through a cabinet, he shamelessly let his gaze roam over her backside. He'd only seen her in dresses, and her tight leggings offered him a decidedly more detailed view. "Chuck?"

He jumped when he was caught, rasping out, "Huh?"

A light blush spread over her cheeks, but she liked the way he looked at her; she was thrilled to find the fire dancing behind his eyes when he thought she couldn't see him. "I asked if you could get the measuring cup. I found the mixer."

They laughed and talked while they half-heartedly followed the instructions on the back of the box, throwing ingredients into the bowl clumsily without really caring about accuracy. Chuck plugged in the mixer, placing the whisks into the bowl. As his fingers found the power switch, Blair yelped out, "Don't turn it on –" But she was too slow, and the mixer revved with too much power, sending brownie batter splattering all over them and the counter and walls. "—high." She finished in defeat, batter dripping from her chin.

He burst out laughing, a sound that Blair wished she could've heard sooner. She joined him, tears running down her cheeks as laughter washed through her. The batter lay forgotten while Blair leaned against the counter, trying to calm herself as yet another bout of hilarity ensued between them.

Chuck steadied himself beside her, pointing to the corner of her mouth. "You've got.." She dabbed at her lips, succeeding only in smearing batter further across her cheek. "Here." His voice was rich and husky. He dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, wiping the chocolate from her mouth. Her heart thudded as she watched him raise his hand to lick his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving hers. He let out a low moan as he sucked the chocolate that had just been on her lips from his thumb. "Delicious," he murmured softly, his tongue darting out the lick the remaining chocolate around his mouth. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he lowered his head toward her.

"You know, I should go -," she exclaimed abruptly, her nerves on fire from Chuck's touch.

"Blair."

"It's getting late, Chuck," she pleaded weakly.

"I'm…" He was interrupted by a sudden crash thundering through the cabin. Blair screamed, and everything went dark.

"What was that?" She clung to his arm, no longer concerned about the distance she was desperate to put between them a few moments earlier.

He looked around the cabin, his eyes searching out the illumination of the clock on the oven, but he couldn't find it. "I think the power went out."

"Oh, God," she groaned. "Are you serious?"

He grabbed her hand, guiding her through the dark living room to his back patio. They stepped outside, looking toward Blair's cabin, which was also engulfed in darkness. Their eyes scanned the dark horizon, and all they could see was a foot of snow glistening over the mountains. Tiny balls of hail tinkled against the already frozen branches of trees. "Wow," Blair whispered as if she was trying to keep from disturbing the quiet, "That happened fast."

"Yeah," Chuck agreed as Blair shivered from the cold. He ran his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her. "Come on, it can't be more than fifteen or twenty degrees out here."

As they returned to the cabin, Blair remained as close to Chuck as possible. She'd been in plenty of power outages, but something about this one, the darkness and the stillness of the resort, unsettled her. Everything around her was unfamiliar, and, as foolish as it may be, she was scared. She felt Chuck pulling her closer, and she allowed herself to lean into him, finding comfort in his presence. "Do you think the power will be out for long?" she asked, her voice giving away her fears.

"Hey." He tilted her chin up, and she could just make out the softness shining in his eyes. "It's okay. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."

She nodded slightly, shivering against him. Without the heat running, the temperature in the cabin was dropping quickly.

He cleared his throat, hoping that his next suggestion wouldn't come across too strong and amplify her anxiety. "This fireplace," he nodded toward the center of the room, "is electric, but, um–" He hesitated. "—the one in my bedroom is wood-burning."

She let out a nervous chuckle, trying her best to lighten the mood. "This better not be some extravagant plan to get me into your bed, Bass."

"I promise to be on my very best behavior," he rasped, his voice as thick as the tension filling the small space between them.

"Can we bring the brownie batter since we didn't get to cook it?"

"Oh," he teased, poking her ribs. "Food play. Kinky."

"God," she groaned playfully, "You're disgusting."

"And you're calmer, so I think it worked." He laced their fingers together so they wouldn't get separated, and, after grabbing two spoons and the bowl of batter, he guided her toward the master suite.

Chuck got the fire started after several unsuccessful attempts, and he settled back onto his bed, patting the spot next to him for Blair to join him. They talked well into the night – discussing topics ranging anywhere from their favorite movies to politics to their childhood dreams. They laughed hard, but they also opened themselves up to each other, realizing that they had a lot more in common than they initially thought. Chuck listened to Blair regale stories of her first year at Yale as he scraped the last remnants of the batter onto his spoon and angled it toward her, letting her have the final bite. He rested the bowl on his nightstand and pulled Blair against him without even considering his actions. She settled into his chest, and he leaned his head against hers, stroking his hands over her arms. His breath tickled her ear, sending another shudder through her. "Tell me something you've never told anyone."

"Hmm," she sighed, mulling over each of her secrets. "I once performed a striptease at a burlesque club."

His body stiffened, and he forced himself to relax because she was pressed against him too intimately for his mind to entertain that image. "Really?" His voice was gruff.

"Yeah, I just needed a bit of rebellion, you know. To do something that no one expected of me."

He drew patterns on the inside of her arm with his index finger, tracing the delicate shape of her wrist up and down with slow movements. "You've surprised me every day since you've been here," he whispered softly.

She smiled to herself, though he couldn't see her. "What about you? What's something people don't know about you?"

"I'm a virgin," he confessed so softly she barely heard him.

"Liar." She elbowed him hard in the ribs, causing him to grunt. "Tell me something real."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I haven't been a virgin since…well, a long time ago."

"I gathered."

"Hey, I could be a virgin."

"Sure, in some alternate universe where I wear converse and distressed jeans." She snarled her nose in disgust, picturing dirty sneakers mussing up her hundred-dollar pedicure.

"Yeah, the same universe where I apparently wear cargo shorts and socks with sandals."

Blair smirked, stifling a yawn beneath her giggle. "You still didn't tell me anything personal."

"This." He motioned between them. "All of this was personal, Blair. I never thought I'd be grateful for a power outage during a snowstorm in Tennessee, but, here I am."

The flickering of the dying fire cast shadows across the room, and Blair focused on the outline of Chuck's form holding hers. She couldn't ask him what he meant, and she wouldn't dare allow herself to dissect the confession that seemed to be hidden in his words. Instead, she pushed herself forward, standing to her feet. She stretched out her arms above her head. "I'm getting tired," she said quietly. "I should head back…" Suddenly, she realized that she was in quite a predicament. She was terrified to go back to her cabin, and she didn't know how to start a fire. She shuffled her feet, feeling awkward for the first time that evening. "Maybe I could sleep on the couch."

"You're not going anywhere, Blair, and you're sure as hell not sleeping on the couch." Chuck's voice was rough as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the bed. "There's one fire. You're sleeping in here."

"Where–" she gulped. "Where will you sleep?"

"Honestly, when I brought you in here, I assumed we would both sleep here, since it's the only room that has any source of heat, but if you're uncomfortable with that, I can sleep on the floor…I guess." There was a reluctance to his voice because he knew damned well that the hardwood floor would be freezing.

"Yeah," Blair forced a smile that Chuck couldn't see. "Of course, that makes sense. Body heat and all, right?"

"Thermoregulation," Chuck husked.

"Yeah," Blair shifted. "It's important to stay warm, however unconventional the methods."

Chuck's eyes trailed over Blair's body as best they could through the glow of the firelight. "Do you want something else to wear?"

"Yes, please," she nodded.

"You know," The deep, gravelly tone returned to his voice. "Body heat doesn't really work through layers of the clothes."

"You're not suggesting –" Her heart beat erratically, and she wasn't sure what she wanted Chuck's answer to be.

"Of course not." He cleared his throat. "It's just that, if we really want to stay warm, the fewer layers, the better."

"I'm not sleeping naked, Chuck," Blair warned.

"I'm not suggesting that, Blair." He bit back the comment that he certainly wouldn't be opposed to such an arrangement though, instead opting to explain his line of thinking. "Skin to skin is proven to help us regulate our body temperature. I'll wear my boxers and you can sleep in one of my t-shirts. I promise that I won't try anything." He began to grow frustrated, afraid that she thought he was just trying to find a way to get her in as little clothing as possible – and honestly, he hadn't convinced himself that that wasn't at least part of his motivation either.

"Okay," Blair agreed, "But it better be a long shirt."

He laughed, tossing her an undershirt that she promptly carried to the ensuite bathroom and threw over her head. She thanked the Powers that Be that she had opted for boy shorts when getting dressed that morning instead of her typical thong. The shirt hit her mid-thigh, about to the spot where most of her night gowns hit her, and she felt more comfortable with the arrangement.

When she returned to the bedroom, Chuck was already settled beneath the heavy comforter, and she slid in beside him, keeping as much distance between them as possible. "Body heat, Blair," he whispered, pulling her to the center of the bed. "Remember?"

He curled his body around hers, careful to keep his hands in neutral territory, eventually opting to rest his palm against the bend of her waist. He couldn't resist pressing a chaste kiss to the side of her throat when she relaxed against him. "Goodnight, Waldorf," he murmured against her hair.

"Night, Chuck." She closed her eyes, resting her hand on top of his at her waist, and suddenly the world felt a little more peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for the positive response to this story. Your reviews and words of encouragement mean the world to me. As you may have seen on Twitter, I'm planning for this story to be around 5-6 chapters, so the pacing is pretty brisk. AUs are some of my favorites to write, so I hope to plan a few different ones in the future.