Holly went very still, and I could see her processing the comment, trying to figure out whether it meant something or if I was just being polite.
“I mean,” I said quickly, “for someone who just spent three hours engaging in combat with Vermont weather.”
“Right,” Holly said, her voice carefully neutral. “For someone who looks like a snowman.”
The moment stretched between us, loaded with everything we weren’t saying about last night, about what happened when we got back to town, about whether this was just physical or something more complicated.
“We should probably head back,” Holly said finally, breaking the tension. “Before they send out search parties.”
“Probably,” I agreed, though part of me wanted to suggest we stay at the cabin for another day, maybe figure out what this thing between us actually was before we had to deal with the rest of the world.
But Holly was already climbing into the passenger seat, carefully not meeting my eyes, and I realized that whatever conversation we needed to have about last night was going to have to wait until we weren’t both exhausted and covered in snow.
The drive back to Everdale Falls was quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts as we navigated the snow-covered roads. By the time we pulled into our neighboring driveways, the awkwardness was back in full force, thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Thank you,” Holly said as I parked, her hand already on the door handle. “For letting me come along.”
“Thank you for the company,” I said, though what I wanted to say was that spending twenty-four hours with her had been the best twenty-four hours I’d had in longer than I could remember.
She nodded and climbed out of the car, gathering her things with the efficiency of someone eager to escape. I watched her hurry across the snowy driveway to her parents’ house, her shoulders tense with the kind of energy that suggested she was already regretting everything that had happened between us.
And as I sat in my car watching her disappear inside, I realized that whatever we’d started at the cabin was about to get a lot more complicated now that we were back in the real world.
Twenty-Four
HOLLY
Morning After Festival Prep
I’d been backin my childhood bedroom for exactly thirty-seven minutes, and I was already questioning every life choice that had led to me having the best sex of my life with Declan Hayes in a cabin with a single bed and fossilized coffee.
The hot shower had helped with the hypothermia situation, but it had done absolutely nothing for the fact that I could still feel everywhere he’d touched me, or that I kept replaying the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious instead of convenient.
Which was exactly the kind of thinking that had gotten me into trouble with Derek, and I needed to get a grip before I made the same mistakes all over again.
My body ached, in all the wrong places from the shoveling, but I could still feel his thick cock between my thighs, and it made me press them together as my phone rang.
“Holly Winters,” I answered automatically.
“Ms. Winters, this is Jennifer Walsh from Hartwell & Associates in Chicago,” said a crisp, professional voice thatimmediately made my stomach lurch with guilt and anxiety. “I’m calling to confirm your interview details for this Friday.”
Friday. I had a few days to prepare for the interview that could resurrect my career while also coordinating final festival preparations and apparently navigating whatever the hell was happening with Declan.
“Yes, absolutely,” I said, grabbing a pen and notepad like the organized professional I was supposed to be instead of someone who’d spent the morning digging cars out of snow while having inappropriate thoughts about her former teenage crush.
“We’ll need you online at nine AM Eastern for the full interview process,” Jennifer continued efficiently. “You’ll be meeting with the executive team via video conference. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour. We know the date isn’t the best!”
“That works perfectly,” I said, realizing my hands were shaking.
“Excellent. We’re very excited to meet with you, Holly. Your background in marketing is exactly what we’re looking for, and your references were glowing.”
My references. Patricia, who couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Fucking bitch. She owed me that much.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
After I hung up, I sat on my bed staring at my notepad and trying to reconcile the ambitious, career-focused woman who’d scheduled that interview with the woman who’d spent last night wrapped around Declan Hayes like he was the only solid thing in a world gone sideways.
Chicago represented everything I’d thought I wanted—professional respect, financial independence, the chance to prove that Patricia had been wrong to fire me, and Derek had been wrong to treat me like I was disposable. It had been my home for years, and the thought of leaving it the way I hadsat heavily on my chest. I still had friends there, even though I hadn’t spoken to them in a while. They were unfinished business, something I had hoped to resurrect if they’d let me.
