“I’m fine,” I say. It’s the truth. My skin’s running too hot to feel anything but her. Snow whirls between us, catching in her lashes. She’s still looking at me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. I force myself to look away before I do something stupid.
“Come on,” I say quietly. “Let’s get you both inside.”
At the porch, she hesitates, then opens the door. Warmth rushes out—woodsmoke, firelight, the faint scent of cocoa. It wraps around her as she steps in.
She doesn’t look back to check if I’m following, but she doesn’t shut me out either.
I step inside quietly and pull the door closed. The cabin is warm, the way humans like it. Water drips from our clothes onto the boards.
She turns toward me, something held tight behind her eyes. “Welcome,” she mutters.
“Thanks,” I answer, but longing chokes my throat and it sounds careless. I shake the snow from my hair—and that’s when the four dogs come barreling over.
They stop dead. The biggest one—the husky—snarls. The others bare their teeth at me, ears flattened.
“Hey, you guys!” Lila yelps. “Quit doing that.”
They pay her no heed, all eyes fixed on the apex predator that’s just intruded on their territory.
I give out a low growl, and all four of them hunker down in submission. The husky rolls onto its back.
“That’s weird.” Lila blinks at the dogs. “One second they were ready to bite your head off. You the dog whisperer or something?”
She’s standing in front of the fire, clinging to the cat. Her hair is a little shorter than she used to have it, perfectly framing her heart-shaped face. Her navy wool sweater and dark jeans cling to womanly curves. All I can think about is how much I want to hold her close and kiss that rosebud mouth of hers again.
I drag my gaze away from her, force it to the fire instead. “There’s a blizzard coming,” I say. “You have enough wood stacked?”
“Think so.”
I nod. “Keep the fire fed.”
She presses her face into the cat’s fur, like she’s desperate for any comfort, and the gesture just about kills me.
“I will.” Her voice is calm, but I catch the tremor under it. Is she scared to be here alone?
The dogs are watching me from the hearth—ears forward, uneasy. My beast lets out a soft rumble. It means,I’m not going to eat you.
They whine and settle. Lila notices, frowns. “You’ve got a way with them.”
I shrug. “I’m good with animals.”
She hesitates, then gives a small smile—the kind that doesn’t reach her eyes but still feels like sunlight after a long dark spell. “Once they get used to you.”
If only she knew.
I should leave.
Instead, I stand there, letting the warmth crawl over my skin, watching the firelight catch the planes of her face until my self-control feels like glass ready to break.
Then she turns toward me, and I feel her look at me—really look at me.
That’s when the world stops.
3
Lila
For a long, aching moment, the only sounds are the fire popping and the wind nudging at the windows.
