His smile did something to her insides, a melting sensation that had become dangerously familiar over the past two days.
The truck slowed as they approached the cabins, ice crunching beneath the tires. Sorcha’s stomach tightened with a strange mix of disappointment and anticipation. The day was ending, but the evening stretched ahead with possibilities that made her pulse quicken.
Christopher pulled up in front of Cabin 7 and cut the engine. The sudden silence amplified the electricity humming between them. Neither moved to exit the truck.
“I had a wonderful time today,” she said, her voice softer than she’d intended.
“So did I.” His eyes met hers, and for a moment, Sorcha forgot to breathe.
She wanted to kiss him. The realization hit her with physical force, a hunger that pooled low in her belly and made her lips tingle with anticipation. It would be so easy to lean across the console, to press her mouth to his, to finally discover if he tasted as good as she’d imagined.
But the job offer loomed in her mind like a warning sign. Taking over Dominic’s position. Travel. Adventure. Everything she’d worked toward for years. She couldn’t lead Christopher on, couldn’t start something she wasn’t prepared to finish. If she kissed him now, it wouldn’t be a casual holiday fling. She knew that with bone-deep certainty. It would be a beginning, a promise, a shift in the life she’d worked so hard to build.
“I should go,” she said, reaching for the door handle even as every cell in her body screamed in protest.
“Sorcha,” Christopher’s voice stopped her. “Would you like to come over for dinner again?”
The raw need in his voice nearly undid her. It wasn’t just desire—though that was certainly there—but something deeper, more vulnerable. As if her answer mattered more than he could say.
“I, um…” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to think rationally. “No, thanks. I visited the grocery store earlier.”
The disappointment in his eyes hit her like a physical blow. She watched his expression falter, the light in his eyes dimming, and hated herself for putting that look on his face.
“Maybe I could cook for you instead,” she heard herself say. “As a thank you.”
Wait, what? Had her mouth disconnected from her brain? Wasn’t she trying to maintain some distance, to protect both of them from inevitable heartache?
But even as she questioned her own judgment, she knew the truth. Her mouth wasn’t disconnected from her brain…it was connected directly to her heart, bypassing all her carefully constructed defenses.
“I’d love that.” The disappointment evaporated from Christopher’s face, replaced by a smile so heartfelt it stole her breath. He looked like a child who’d just unwrapped the perfect gift on Christmas morning—surprised and delighted and utterly, transparently happy.
“Great,” she said, unable to stop herself from returning his smile. This was why she’d decided to stay longer, after all. To spend more time with him, to explore whatever this connection between them might be. “I’ll see you around six?”
“Perfect,” Christopher said, looking at her with an intensity that made her feel as if she were all he needed. All he wanted.
Her insides turned to liquid fire. She needed to escape before she did something reckless, like climb across the seat and into his lap.
“See you then,” she managed, backing away from the truck. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned and hurried toward her car, parked where she’d left it after returning from ice skating.
She’d completely forgotten about her groceries. Christopher had that effect on her, consuming her thoughts until practical matters fell by the wayside. She popped the trunk and gathered the bags, grateful that the winter air had kept everything fresh.
As she walked to the cabin, the weight of Christopher’s gaze lingered on her, and she could feel it like a physical touch. She refused to turn around, afraid of what might happen if their eyes met again across the distance.
Once inside the safety of the cabin, Sorcha leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. Only then did she realize she was still wearing his coat. She buried her nose in the collar and inhaled deeply, her eyes drifting shut as her imagination took flight. She could almost feel his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing the jacket off, his lips finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.
“Get it together, O’Neill,” she muttered, forcing her eyes open.
She had a meal to prepare, a schedule to update, and some serious thinking to do about what exactly she was doing here with Christopher Stiller. Because whatever it was, it no longer felt temporary. And that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
Sorcha hung Christopher’s coat on a hook by the door, her fingers lingering on the worn fabric. She’d give it back to him tonight. Along with her heart, if she wasn’t careful.
“What am I doing?” she whispered to the empty cabin as she carried her groceries to the kitchen counter.Falling,came back the answer.
But for now, she needed to get on with preparing dinner. It was the least she could do after all Christopher had done for her.
But what did one cook for a mountain man who had already prepared the most delicious stew she’d ever tasted? Her repertoire of quick hotel-room meals seemed woefully inadequate. She’d picked up pasta, fresh vegetables, and a decent bottle of red wine. Simple but good. That would have to do.
As she chopped onions and garlic, Sorcha’s mind circled back to that moment in the truck when they’d arrived at the cabins. The air between them had been thick enough to cut with the knife in her hand. She’d wanted to kiss him so badly her lipshad actually tingled with anticipation, every part of her aching to give in to this inexplicable pull that had been tugging at her since the moment they’d met.
