The breath I’d been holding escapes, along with a rogue thought aboutwishinghe would have stayed. Wishing he would have joined me.
I shake my head and laugh to myself. “Yeah right. Like Hale’s got any interest in a girl like me.”
By the time I emerge with my hair damp and almost drowning in Nathan’s clothes, the power’s flickering. The cabin echoes with storm noise—wind howling, trees groaning.Nathan’s crouched by the fireplace, feeding another log into the flames.
The room glows orange and gold. Shadows move over his shoulders as he straightens, another glass of bourbon in one hand. “Figured we better eat while we’ve got power,” he says, nodding toward the coffee table where two pizzas and plates are waiting. “Hope you like pepperoni.”
“I don’t think I’ve had frozen pizza since college,” I say, shuffling across the floor in the pair of thick wool socks he left for me.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You poor thing.”
I eye the glass of amber liquid in his hand. “You got another one of those?”
“I don’t know, kid. I’m not trying to corrupt you with my vices.”
“Please. Pretty sure we could both agree that I’ve been corrupted since I was at least sixteen,” I tease.
That earns me a look—sharp and amused. “You mean since you set off fireworks behind the lighthouse?”
I grin. “Hey, that was patriotic.”
“You nearly set the grass in the dunes on fire.”
“Details.”
He shakes his head, but I can see the smile tugging at his mouth. “You and your friends were a menace.”
“Was it the fireworks or the fact that we convinced your rookie to drive us home that got me on your bad side?”
“The rookie part,” he admits. “He didn’t stop talking about you for a month.”
I bite my lip and right back a laugh. “Jealous, Chief?”
He looks at me over the rim of his glass, his expression a cross between annoyed and perhaps a little…possesive. “You were seventeen.”
“Eighteen,” I correct softly. “Barely. Is your memory starting to go with your advanced age?”
He turns away with a huff that I can’t interpret and busies himself at a small bar setup before handing me the glass of amber liquid I asked for. It feels like he’s pretending the last part of our conversation never happened, but I’m no fool, I see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw flexes as he heads back into the living room.
Following his lead, I sit across from him on the rug in front of the fireplace and snag a slice of pizza before taking a sip of the bourbon he poured me. The heat of the liquid chases through me like courage. “You ever get lonely out here?”
“Sometimes.” He looks into the fire, the light catching on his profile, softening it. “But quiet doesn’t bother me.”
“It used to bother me,” I admit. “Now it’s kind of nice. Not that the city is quiet. My apartmentcanbe though.”
My heart beats louder than the wind outside while I wait for him to say something…anything.
When I glance at him, he’s watching me, and I can’t help but feel it’s not the way a man looks at someone he just rescued. No. It’s the way a man looks at someone he shouldn’t want but does anyway.
“Nathan…” I whisper, unsure if I’m issuing a warning or an invitation.
He doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t look away either.
Something flickers across his face—restraint, maybe, or regret. “Tessa.”
I set my glass down, nerves buzzing. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed here? If I hadn’t left right after graduation?”
It’s a long time before he answers. First with a snort, and then, “You mean, do I wonder what stunt you would have gotteninto next?” he finally replies, breaking through the current between us.
