Snow Angel

“No!”

 Jake spun around, reached up to grab a red scarf as it tossed towards him by strong gusty winds. Hot cider spilled from his coffee flask. The scarf blew into his eyes blinding him briefly. So wasn’t prepared as a slip of girl slammed into him knocking him onto his bottom. Wet cold snow soaked his jeans. He pulled back the scarf to focus on a halo thick blonde curls and blue eyes resting his eyes on bright red generous lips. An angel had landed onto his lap.

            “Oh, I am so sorry and thanks,” she smiled taking hold of her scarf. “My Gran bought me this. I would hate to lose it.”

            He smiled. “I must thank your Gran,” he said. Colour flooded her cheeks and wiggled free to climb to her feet. “So what do I call my snow angel?”

            Laughing she held out her hand to help him to his feet. “Angela,” she answered with a wince. “Sorry,” she said pointing at his spilt flask.

            “Then I guess you owe me a drink,” he suggested.

            She nodded pointing behind them. “There is a café back there.”

Collecting his belongings, they sauntered through the snow. The scarf safely back around her neck. A bell tingled as they entered the café. Jake looked up and paused, smiling. So did Angela, both looking up at the mistletoe hanging in the doorway. They looked at each other.

            “Tradition,” he said.

            “Yes,” she agreed.

            Fate, an angel and a kiss.