“You know? I didn’t know Bear was such a good, ah, watch dog,” I said awkwardly. And then I kind of realized what I’d done. I’d run outside in my pajamas, my hair was tied up loosely, and I had less than no makeup on. “So. Ah. Well.” I looked down at my slippers. “Good shoveling,” I said, nodding in appreciation.

He just stood there, frozen in action, shovel poised in mid-air. Staring at me. Completely speechless. And I thought, Well, I can’t really blame him. He was here to shovel, not to look at someone who’d just rolled out of bed and probably had sheet-crease-face. Happy New Year, Cursed Kirsten.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, for obvious reasons. “Should we go in?” I asked.

“You probably should,” he said.

“Come on, Bear!” I called, but of course he didn’t come, he was too busy romping around the yard. I headed for the door anyway. I had to at least go put on some regular clothes, even if Sean would be gone by the time I did.

I rattled the door knob. Nothing. It was locked. I was locked out. And I was the only one awake so far.

“She keeps an extra key over here.”

Sean’s voice startled me. He was walking over to the porch swing. He reached underneath and picked up a fake rock.

“How well do you know my sister?” I asked.

“Well enough not to expect the key to actually be here,” he said.

We both laughed.

“She must have used it and forgot to put it back,” he said.

“Typical, really. She’s been disorganized since birth,” I told him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She could never keep track of her bottle. Stuff like that.” Why did I say that? I could have kicked myself, but then he’d see me kicking myself and that would be even more embarrassing than what I just said.

“But you’re the younger sister…right?” he asked.

“Right,” I said. “By, like…a lot. Seven years younger.”

“So how would you know if she lost track of stuff since she was a baby?” he asked, still not getting it. “You were, uh…”

“Not even thought of at that point. I realize that. I was just joking.”

“Oh.” And then he grinned, giving me that killer smile of his again. “You’re funny,” he said.

Hilarious, I thought. If my friends could see me now.

I went over to pound on the front door while he cleared the side of the driveway, but nobody answered it. Then I leaned over and knocked gently on the living room’s picture window. I knew Gretchen was still in bed, but I thought I saw Brett sprint past a couple of times, only he was so fast and little it was hard to tell with the sun coming up reflecting in the picture window. He usually woke up early so that he could watch the Koala Brothers on TV. Couldn’t he be a good nephew and come save me?

I turned around and saw Bear romping across the yard, snow up to his torso. Watching Bear try to run through the snow, leaping and diving and burying his nose in it like a pig rooting for truffles, was hilarious. “Oh my gosh. He’s completely buried,” I said. “The snow’s all the way up to his armpits.”

“Armpits?” Sean said.

“Legpits, then?” I said. “What do you call them?”

“Leg pits?” Sean and I both began to laugh. Bear apparently wanted to join in, so he started barking. For some reason that made Brett finally notice us out there.

“Sean!” Brett cried as he pulled the front door open. “Sean, come in, come in! Come in now.”

“Hey, kiddo!” Sean called back to him.

Thank you, Brett, I thought. I owed him, big-time. I was burying myself out there. Up to my armpits.

I looked over at Sean and smiled awkwardly. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Summon your inner flirt, I heard Emma saying. “Hey. Do you want to come in for a second?” I blurted. “And see Brett? Plus, I think the coffee was almost finished brewing when I ran out the door. If you drink coffee. If you don’t then that probably doesn’t sound very good.”

He looked at me as if I were completely nuts, as if everyone knew that you didn’t invite the hired snow removal guy in for coffee, even if you did know his name because it was sewn into his jacket, and even if he did seem to know your nephew. He still didn’t actually know me.

“I just thought…maybe you’re cold. But you know, you’re probably not, you’re used to this kind of thing, plus you’re active, plus you’re not wearing, ah, PJ’s—I mean, not that you’re naked, because you are clothed, in fact—” Oh God, did I just use the word “naked” in front of a cute guy?

“Sure. I can come in for a few minutes,” he said. “I always do your house last, ’cause it’s on my way home.”

“Oh really?” And where would that home be? “Well, great.”

“I’ll just finish up out here and then I’ll be in,” he said.

“Great!” I said. “I mean, uh, sounds good.” I quickly went inside, filled two mugs with coffee in the kitchen, then went back to the living room and managed to cover myself with one of Gretchen’s fluffiest fleece throws before Sean walked in.

He took off his jacket, revealing a thick blue wool sweater with little white flecks on it, one of those expensive, classic Norwegian ski sweaters. Except it looked a little older and tattered, as if it had been passed down through the generations, which made it even more cool.

Most people don’t really look that good when they take off their hat, but he really really did. His hair was sort of flattened and mashed and static-crazy, and he still looked great. His hair was the color of light wood, pine maybe. I think it was the way he was sitting near the stacked wood beside the fireplace.

My sister keeps cut logs of wood piled there, but it’s purely decorative. She has a gas-insert fireplace, the kind you turn on with a remote control. It may not be as romantic as a real fireplace, but it’s warm and very easy to use. Still, all her little decorations around the mantel, and the fake fire screen, are kind of ridiculous. She has a flair for home decoration. It’s from watching too much HGTV.

I leaned over, managing to keep myself completely covered by the blanket, and flicked on the fire. Then we just glanced at each other and both sipped our coffee.

Where had Brett gone all of a sudden? He wasn’t supposed to go back to bed. He was supposed to provide an amusing distraction.

“So. How much snow did we get?” I asked.

“I’d say about half a foot. Not bad.” Sean nodded. “Do you cross-country ski?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I don’t think I brought my skis, though. Shoot. Well, maybe I can borrow Gretchen’s. So, are they building an ice palace for Winter Carnival this year?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not totally sure though.”

There was small talk, and then there was miniature talk.

“So, how often do you work down at the lake?”

“A few days a week. I mean, weekends for sure. Then some nights.” He took a sip of coffee. “Why? Did you want to know when you should come down and single-handedly wipe out some more skaters?”

“I’m not that bad!”

“No. You’re worse.”

“Ha. Very funny,” I said. “So okay, I’m no Sasha Cohen, but I can at least stay upright.”

“Most of the time,” he said.

I smiled. “Well, you know, the thing about Crack the Whip…”

“What?” he asked, giving me a confused look.

Oops. That must have been the other guy I sort of met yesterday, the one who brought back my hat. “Well, you just, you know, it’s hard to stay upright when you’re at the end of the line. And I haven’t gone skating very much lately. You know, you get rusty.” Or at least…your skate blades do. I smiled nervously.

“So you should skate a lot while you’re here,” he said.

“Yeah?” I asked, probably sounding a little too eager. “I mean…yeah. I will. Good to get Brett out of the house and all.”

“You’re here to look after Brett?” he asked.

I nodded. “And my sister. So, speaking of skating. This is probably an obvious question, but you play hockey, right?”