He didn't feel cold, either; in fact, every now and again he felt uncomfortably hot. But if he stayed like this much longer, he wouldn't be able to walk when he got up, and he didn't really care for the thought of falling on his face like a prat in front of her. To his relief, when he stood his legs just wobbled under him a little, and he took her hand, turning to diminish the fire with a wave of his wand. Their glasses followed them back in as he showed her to the house, again.
He stopped in the parlor, as the wine settled again on a small table standing beside the old, threadbare sofa. He didn't want her to think he had meant to interrupt, because he absolutely hadn't ... "Bit rocky out there," he said, resting his hands at her waist again and smiling down at her, leaning in to kiss her. "... I'm not as careful as you are, I guess, in the garden."