Chapter 13
Harper
The fire crackles, sending warm ribbons of gold flickering across the ceiling. It’s the only light in the room, and somehow that makes everything feel closer. It seems intimate for two people pretending to be casual acquaintances sharing a bed.
Ethan lies perfectly still beside me, rigid on his back like he’s practicing for a lumberjack statue competition. I keep my eyes closed, breathing carefully, but sleep refuses to come. Probably because I can feel the heat of him, even two feet away.
My mind won’t settle. My chest is fluttery. My nerves are buzzing. And I need something — anything to distract myself. Chocolate. Chocolate is safe and reliable. Chocolate hasnevergiven me butterflies or broad shoulders.
Slowly, I slip out of bed, lifting the edge of the blanket like it’s woven from glass. The cold air nips at my legs as I tiptoe to my suitcase. I crouch down and gingerly pull out the little gift box I tossed in last-minute. It’s wrapped in shiny cellophane.Cellophane that crackles like a megaphone announcing I’m up to something.
I freeze and hold my breath, waiting. Ethan doesn’t move. Okay. Good. He’s asleep … probably.
I try again — slower this time — peeling back the plastic inch by inch like a secret agent disarming a bomb. Crinkle. Crinkle-crinkle. I wince. Finally, it’s off. I exhale triumphantly, lift the lid, and pluck out a dark chocolate truffle. My mouth is practically watering.
I pop it in, close my eyes, and savor.
“Aren’t you going to share?”
I choke. Actually choke. The chocolate rolls to the back of my tongue and I cough so loudly I’m surprised the entire lodge doesn’t hear. I whirl toward the bed, face burning.
Ethan is propped on one elbow, the firelight painting his shoulders in molten gold. His hair is a little mussed. He looks unfairly gorgeous.
“Sorry,” he rumbles. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You …” I wheeze. “You weren’t asleep?”
“No,” he says. “Hard to sleep with someone tiptoeing around like a guilty raccoon.”
“I was not.” I clamp my mouth shut. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”
His eyes flick to the box still clutched in my hands.
“What’s in there?”
“Chocolate,” I mumble.
He lifts one brow. “And you weren’t going to share.”
I swallow, wishing the floor would swallow me. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I wasn’t.” His voice drops. “And I like chocolate.”
Oh God. That heat inside me curls indecently. I walk back toward the bed, heart thudding so loud I’m sure he hears it. I sit gingerly on my side, holding out the box like a peace offering.
“Pick one,” I say. Ethan shifts closer. He reaches into the box, fingers brushing mine lightly. A spark leaps up my arm. He must feel it too, because he stills for half a second before selecting a chocolate. He brings it to his lips, pauses … and then looks directly at me as he bites into it.
I forget how to breathe. He chews slowly. Swallows. “Good.”
I nod way too fast. “They’re, um … high-quality.”
He glances at the box. “Let me guess, expensive?”
“Reasonably,” I lie.
He smirks. “Figured.”
I take another one, chocolate melting between my fingers. Ethan watches the movement of my hand like it’s something intimate. Something he shouldn’t look at but can’t help it. And suddenly the room feels too warm. I lift the chocolate to my mouth. He stops me gently with a hand, fingers wrapping softly around my wrist.
