“Hey,” I managed, because that was all I could manage without sounding like I’d just sprinted up a flight of stairs.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
I honestly didn’t. All I knew was that it was hours after I usually crawled into bed, and I was going to pay for it tomorrow morning.
“Late?” I tried.
Her mouth flattened into a line that said “yes, and you’re an idiot.”
“I just want to talk,” I added quickly, shifting my weight to try and generate some warmth. “For real this time.”
She folded her arms, which—Christ—pushed her tits together in a way I couldn’tnotnotice and absolutely hated myself for noticing at the same time.
“Pretty sure you did enough talking today.”
“That wasn’t talking,” I corrected, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “That was me trying to get your attention and you pretending I was a gnat to be swatted away.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. Not a smile, exactly, but the start of one before she forced it back.
Someone less attuned to Stella McKinley’s mannerisms might have missed it, but I’d spent half my teenage years chasing that sliver of a reaction from her. Telling the dumbest jokes I could think of, pulling the lamest pranks, just to see if I could earn that exact twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“Can I come in?” I asked before she remembered that she hated me.
A long beat passed before Stella finally moved aside with an audible huff of annoyance. “Fine. But wipe your damn boots.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured, stepping inside and scraping my boots on the mat.
After locking the door, Stella crossed the brewery floor with me trailing behind.
The air was warm, carrying that sweet beer smell mixed with whatever lotion or perfume she wore—something I’d never been able to pin down but always knew was hers.
She climbed the stairs ahead of me, and I had to force my eyes up from where her robe clung to her curves.
When we reached the top, I stopped. Her loft was … a lot. There were plants everywhere, fairy lights criss-crossing the rafters, brick walls covered in weird art I didn’t quite understand, but kind of liked anyway.
It was the version of herself that she kept hidden, the one behind all the snark and scowls, and for a second, it hit me that being here, in her space, was a gift.
She perched on the arm of the couch, crossing her arms again like a shield. “What do you want, Cade?”
Not an easy question to answer.
I wanted to close the distance between us and kiss her until she stopped looking at me like I was the enemy. I wanted to peel that green robe off her body and remind her exactly how good we were together. I wanted to wake up in her bed on New Year’s morning all over again, except this time I wouldn’t panic and leave before she woke up. I’d stay and make her breakfast. I’d tell her that night meant something to me, even if she didn’t feel the same way.
I wanted a do-over.
“I want to talk to you.” I started to move closer, but stopped when she stiffened. “Actually talk. Not whatever that was back at the farm.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She lifted her chin slightly, a defiant glint in her eye.
“There obviously is, Stella. Maybe if I explained?—”
“Explained what?” She pushed off the couch arm and paced toward the window, her arms wrapped tight around herself. “You made yourself perfectly clear on New Year’s Day.”
Hold on. What?
I’d been operating under the assumption that her cold shoulder was her way of telling me to back off.
If that wasn’t the case …
