My stomach flips again. That look. That moment backstage when his eyes locked onto mine. Like he didn’t expect me. Like I surprised him. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling.
“I don’t know what that meant,” I whisper.
“Maybe nothing,” she says. “Maybe everything. You won’t know unless you show up.”
She squeezes my hand. And suddenly, I can breathe. Tomorrow. I’ll show up.
♥♥♥
The next evening, The Grand Lodge rises ahead of me like something from a winter dream — all timber beams, glass walls, and soft lights glowing against the snowy mountainside. Built right alongside the rock, with the Rockies unfurling behind it like a painted backdrop, it’s breathtaking. And intimidating.
I step inside the lobby and immediately feel underdressed. Everything is soft wood, warm gold light, evergreen garlands, and crackling fireplaces. People in pretty coats and polished boots glide across the polished floors. I grip the strap of my suitcase and exhale slowly.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself. “It’s only a week. It’s fine. Totally fine.”
A deep voice rumbles behind me.
“Harper?”
I jump and spin around. Ethan Kinkaid stands a few feet away, snow dusting his hair and flannel, hands in his pockets, looking entirely out of place in this polished, fancy lodge — and somehow making it look like he owns it.
Up close again, he’s even taller than I remember from yesterday. Even broader. And those eyes! They pin me right where I’m standing.
“Hi,” I breathe, sounding absolutely ridiculous.
He steps closer. Not too close, just enough that I have to tilt my chin up to keep looking at his face. Ethan is too tall. Too handsome. Too everything.
“You made it,” he says.
“I did,” I manage. “I wasn’t sure which entrance to use.”
“It’s the only one,” he deadpans.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Right. Yes. Of course.”
His mouth twitches—almost a smile. Almost.
He nods toward the check-in desk. “Shall we?”
We walk together, both too stiff, too aware of each other. The woman behind the counter beams at us.
“Welcome! You must be our Holiday Bride couple for the week!”
I want the floor to open up beneath me. Ethan’s jaw flexes.
The woman continues cheerfully, “Honeymoon Suite is all ready for you. Fireplace lit. Champagne chilled. Strawberries dipped.”
Ethan coughs hard. I’m fairly certain my soul leaves my body. She hands him the key cards. “Enjoy your romantic retreat!”
Ethan mutters, “Not romantic,” under his breath. I’m not sure if she hears him, but I do. And weirdly, I’m disappointed … just a little. We walk toward the elevators in a dazed silence. Every step makes my heart beat faster. When we reach the golden doors, he presses the button and glances down at me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I swallow. No. Yes. Maybe. “I think so.”
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime. He gestures for me to go first. And as I step inside, the reality of it all hits me all at once:
A whole week. A honeymoon suite. A man who makes my heart pound and my nerves tangle. And no snow globe in the world could capture this moment.
