Yes. She had a full day of activities ahead. So she had better get started and get out there. Alone.
She had taken up enough of Christopher’s time yesterday, and after he’d worked a night shift, he needed sleep. To ask him to come along with her today would be taking advantage of his generosity.
But there was another underlying reason she wanted to fly solo today. That near kiss.
There was no room in her life for a holiday romance. And that was all her relationship with Christopher could ever be.
But as she sipped her morning coffee, watching the sunlight sparkle on the fresh snow outside her cabin window, Sorcha imagined Christopher beside her on the ice. Would his natural grace extend to skating? She pictured his strong hands holding hers as they glided together, perhaps even lifting her in a spontaneous spin, their laughter mingling in the cold air.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, setting down her mug with more force than necessary. This was exactly what she couldn’t afford…daydreaming about a man she’d barely met, building castles in the air that would crumble when she drove away tomorrow.
Sorcha pulled her notebook closer, focusing on the practical aspects. The skating would make an excellent addition to her article, a traditional winter activity in a picturesque setting. She could describe the historic creek, the families enjoying a pastime that hadn’t changed in generations. Professional. Detached. That was how she needed to approach this.
Yet, the thought of experiencing it alone suddenly felt hollow. She’d done countless activities by herself over the years—hikedthe Camino de Santiago, kayaked in New Zealand, watched sunsets over Mediterranean beaches. Always alone, always moving on. It had never bothered her before.
“It’s just the holiday season,” she told herself firmly. “Everyone gets sentimental.”
But a voice in her head, one that sounded suspiciously like her mother’s, whispered that she should call Christopher, ask if he’d be her guide again today. For the article, of course. Nothing more.
Sorcha shook her head. No, she didn’t need him. She’d grown accustomed to solitude, had even come to prefer it. Having Christopher along would only make it harder when she left.
Ifshe left.
The thought ambushed her, stopping her mid-sip.If?Of course, she was leaving. She had a career, an apartment, a life waiting for her. And potentially a new position that would take her career to unprecedented heights. Everything she’d worked toward since escaping her hometown.
But was it what she truly wanted anymore?
Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory: “Don’t end up like me, Sorcha. Trapped in this town, watching life pass by. You need to get out, see the world. Be free.”
Freedom. That’s what her travels had always represented. But what if her mother’s dream had never really been hers? What if true freedom meant choosing to stay somewhere—with someone—because it felt right?
Sorcha glanced around the cabin, its rustic charm suddenly more appealing than her sleek, impersonal apartment. She imagined waking up here day after day, perhaps in a cabin of her own. Or in Christopher’s, with his solid presence beside her.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it filled her with a warm, settled feeling she couldn’t remember experiencing before.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “One more day and I’m gone.”
Yet the prospect of leaving no longer excited her as it usually did. There was no eager anticipation of the next destination, just a hollow ache when she thought about driving away from Bear Creek. Away from Christopher.
Maybe a snowstorm would blow in overnight,she thought wistfully. Force her to stay a few more days. Give her more time to absorb this place, to figure out why it felt so different from all the others she’d visited and left without a backward glance.
More time withhim.
Sorcha drained her coffee and headed to the bedroom, pulling on her wool hat, thick scarf, and mittens. She laced her boots tightly and gathered her essentials—purse, phone, notebook—before heading toward the door.
The night had brought only a light dusting of snow, hardly enough to make driving hazardous. She’d be fine taking her rental car to the skating area. Perfectly safe.
But as she stepped outside and headed toward her car, that treacherous inner voice suggested how much better it would be to go with Christopher. In his truck. With its four-wheel drive and chains. Withhim.
As if conjured by her thoughts, a figure emerged from the office building. Christopher walked toward her, hands pushed deep into his coat pockets, snow glittering on his dark hair, and that warm smile that made her stomach flip, spreading across his face.
“Hey there,” he called, his voice carrying in the clear morning air. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a log,” Sorcha replied, hoping her face didn’t betray how much his presence affected her. “It must be all the fresh mountain air.”
She kept her voice light to hide the lie. The truth was, she’d slept fitfully, waking around 3 AM from a dream so vivid it had left her flushed and disoriented. Christopher had been there, his hands tracing paths across her skin, his lips finding hers in the darkness. She’d woken tangled in sheets, heart racing, her body humming with a need that had made it impossible to fall back asleep for nearly an hour.
“There’s nothing like it,” Christopher said as he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze sweeping across the snow-covered landscape.
