Ruby elbows me again. Hard. “Say something.”
I swallow. “I’m sorry if this is a lot.”
His gaze softens and for one fleeting second, something warm glows in his eyes. Something that makes my mind take a tumble.
“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly.
Janice claps again. “Excellent! Well, you’ll check into the lodge tomorrow evening. Try to get some rest tonight!”
Rest … right. Ruby grabs my shoulders and spins me toward the exit. “Come on before you melt into a puddle.”
I’m halfway out when Ethan calls my name. “Harper.”
I freeze and turn. He stands with his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, jaw tightened, eyes locked on mine.
“I’ll … see you tomorrow,” he says.
My throat dries. “I’ll be there,” I whisper.
His gaze drops to my dress for the briefest second — so fast I’d think I imagined it if not for the heat that flares in my cheeks. Then he looks away, running a hand through his hair like he’s annoyed with himself.
Ruby drags me out of sight. As soon as we’re far enough away, she squeals loud enough to alert several counties.
“You are insomuch trouble.”
She’s right. I am. Big, handsome, green-eyed trouble. And tomorrow … I have to live with him for a week in a honeymoon suite. I press a hand to my forehead, dizzy.
“What have I done?”
Ruby smirks. “Only the best mistake of your life.”
I’m not sure. My heart is beating too fast. My face is very warm. And my thoughts are too chaotic to pretend I’m not already in deep. So very, very deep.
Chapter 6
Ethan
The drive home is a blur of light snowflakes darting in front of the headlights, coupled with bad decisions. Okay, it’s mostly my bad decisions. I climb higher, the town lights fading behind me. My hands are tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, jaw clenched hard enough to crack a molar.
A whole week with her. What the hell was I thinking agreeing to this? Oh, right. The land. Stupid, important, irreplaceable land.
I take a turn too fast, and the passenger seat rustles with papers — the damn itinerary Janice gave me. I shove it aside without looking. I already saw enough.
Tree lighting. Cocoa tasting. Couples’ sleigh ride. Honeymoon suite. My pulse jumps just thinking about that last one. Honeymoon. As if I’m remotely capable of … that. As if she’d want …
I cut off the thought so hard it gives me whiplash. I don’t do this. I don’t date or flirt. I don’t even feel things. And yet, her blue eyes haven’t left my mind since I realized she was the winning bidder. They were wide, bright, and a little startled. She’s too damn pretty.
The truck climbs the final hill and my cabin appears between the pines, smoke curling from the chimney like a welcome banner for a man who prefers solitude. I pull in beside the woodpile, kill the engine, and sit there for a long moment breathing. I need to get my wits about me. Who I am. I’m a loner and I like it that way. I need to be the man who lived peacefully up here yesterday.
I open the truck door and step into the cold. The wind bites, but it’s familiar. Predictable. Unlike the flustered, warm rush that hit me when Harper whispered she didn’t mean to bid.
I stomp up the steps and push inside the cabin. The hinges squeak. They’ve squeaked for eight years … and I never bother fixing them.
The warmth hits me first. Then the clutter. Not garbage. Just … things. My things. Stacks of gear I might need someday. Old lanterns. Rope coils. Three broken heaters I’m convinced I’ll fix eventually. Plastic bins of parts from machines I haven’t owned in years. Clothing I refuse to throw away because it has life left in it. Books. Maps. More tools than any one man reasonably needs.
This place isn’t a cabin. It’s a dragon’s hoard made of survival gear and emotional baggage. But it’s mine. And being here — alone, insulated — settles something inside me.
I shrug off my coat and hang it on the back of a chair piled with folded blankets and a box of mismatched socks I swear I’m going to donate one of these days. I light the lantern on the table and sink into my armchair. It gives a loud groan under myweight. I bought it used years ago. I’ll die in this chair before I replace it.
