Not since I felt the spark in my blood when she smirked and called herself my bride.
Fake or not, something about it made the animal in me sit up and listen.
“I don’t like people in my space,” I say quietly.
Noel crosses her arms. “I’m not just any people.”
“Noticed.”
She smiles like I gave her a compliment.
Then ruins it by hanging a string of fairy lights over my front window.
“I want peace,” I grind out.
“You’ll get it. Right after we win.”
I stare at her.
Hard.
She stares back, unbothered, cheeks flushed from the fire and that smart mouth of hers working overtime to push every single one of my buttons.
Hell, maybe that’s the real reason I haven’t kicked her out yet.
I haven’t felt this alive in months. Maybe years.
She steps forward, chin tilted up.
“You gonna glare me out the door, mountain man? Or are you gonna help me hang these?”
She dangles a set of silver bells between us like a weapon.
I reach up, slow and controlled, and take them from her fingers.
For a second, we’re just... quiet. The sound of the storm outside, the hum of the fire, the soft static from her ridiculous holiday playlist.
Then I murmur, “You talk a lot.”
Her eyes spark. “And you grunt like a caveman.”
My mouth quirks. Just a little. “You got a thing for cavemen, sweetheart?”
“Only the ones who grunt like they fuck.”
That does it.
That flips the switch.
My hand’s still wrapped around the bells. Hers is still raised from passing them off. Our fingers brush, barely, and I swear I feel it in my spine.
“You should be careful,” I murmur, stepping closer, closing the gap inch by inch. “You say things like that and I might have to show you exactly how I?—”
A sharpknockat the door slices through the air.
We both freeze.
She exhales slowly. “Saved by the bell.”
