I snort as I lead her towards the back and up the stairs, her hand still in mine. “Mystery man?”
“Felt right. You’re being all mysterious right now, and you’ve got that tall, dark, and broody thing going for you.”
I smile at that, pushing open the door to the loft, and Olivia immediately gasps, dropping her bag and making a beeline for the floor to ceiling windows that line that back wall. “Oh my god, look at that!” With her face practically pressed to the glass, she stares outside at the snow falling in thick flakes.
Leaving the lights off so the glare doesn’t ruin her view, I stride over to the windows and stand next to her, glancing down at her face as she watches the snow blanket Carson Street. “Isn’t it great?”
Her soft smile has my heart squeezing in my chest. With the falling snow reflected in her forest green eyes, an excited flush on her face, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. “It’s gorgeous. I thought we were only supposed to get a couple inches. That looks like way more.”
A piece of hair falls from her bun, and I can’t resist the urge to reach up and run the silky strand through my fingers, tuckingit behind her ear and skimming my fingers down her jaw. Her quiet little gasp makes me unreasonably happy. Dropping my hand, I shrug. “Looks like it’s going to be at least a foot. Maybe more.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I guess I better go then.”
I feel a glow of victory at the uncertainty in her voice. I happen to know that she learned to drive in California and then didn’t have a car for the four years she was in D.C., which means she’s only been driving in the snow for three years and likely isn’t the most comfortable with it. “You don’t have to. There are three guest rooms in this loft.” I wave a hand towards the hallway leading to the extra bedrooms. “Pick whichever one you want and crash here. You can drive home tomorrow once the roads are clear.”
She looks at me with relief and uncertainty warring in her eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in your way.”
Please, please get in my way.
“Of course I’m sure. My bedroom is upstairs, so literally no one ever uses the ones down here. No use digging your car out of the snow now when they’re all just sitting there unused.”
Before Olivia can answer, her phone chimes and she tugs it out of her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she rolls her eyes. “Get a hobby, Gabe,” she mutters, unlocking her phone and typing out a message.
“Everything okay?” I ask, even though I’m like ninety-nine percent sure her brother is texting to make sure she’s not out driving in the snow.
Huffing out a breath, she slides the phone back into her pocket. “It’s fine. Gabe was worried I was out in this, like I would be dumb enough to attempt driving in a foot of snow. I swear, sometimes he forgets I’m not fifteen anymore. Anyway, I told him I’m crashing here for the night so he would leave me alone, so I guess you’re stuck with me now.”
I shrug again, trying to be casual, but there is nothing casual about the way my heart slams against my chest. I suddenly feel like this night is what I’ve been waiting for for three years. Like everyYou can’t have herandShe’s perfectandShe’s too youngand She’s gorgeousandGabe would murder meandShe was made for methought has all been leading me here, to this quiet moment standing in front of the window and watching the snow with the girl of my dreams. “Happy to be stuck with you. I’ll even make hot chocolate. The real kind.”
Olivia gasps, pressing her hands to her chest, and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. “Like, with real chocolate and everything?”
I scoff. “Like there’s any other way to make hot chocolate. Stick with me, Liv. You’ll never have bad hot chocolate ever again.”
Olivia turns to face me, smile lighting her face. “I think I may do just that.” With my gaze locked on hers, I try and smile back, but with her words hanging in the air between us, I can’t quite get there. I know she didn’t mean them in any way other than playful, but my traitorous brain hasn’t gotten the memo.
With our eyes still tangled together, the air grows heavy with anticipation and a kind of knowing that wraps itself around us, tugging us closer. Olivia’s smile vanishes, her chest rising and falling as the space between us slowly disappears. Her eyes darken with an emotion that has my stomach tightening with need, and a shiver works its way down my spine as I imagine what it will feel like to finally have her lips on mine.
The ding of Olivia’s phone shatters the moment and she jerks back, face flushed and eyes wide, staring at me as she yanks the phone out of her pocket. Breaking eye contact, she takes a long, slow breath as she looks down at her phone, and I take one of my own, trying to get my shit together and my racing heart under control.
“Fucking brothers,” she mutters, clicking off the phone and shoving it in her pocket, finally raising her eyes back to mine. When she speaks, her voice is far steadier than I feel. “Any chance you have a sweatshirt or something I can borrow? Sleeping in jeans is the seventh layer of hell.”
My eyes involuntarily drop down, taking in the jeans that look like they’re practically painted on and the deep green sweater that skims over tits I want to cup in my hands and curves I want to run my fingers over. Then I get a flash of what she would look like in my clothes. Yeah, I definitely have a sweatshirt or something she can borrow.
“Sure, I’ll grab one. Just a sec.”
Jogging up the steps to my room, I rummage through my drawers, grateful for the few minutes alone. Kissing Olivia is all I want, and from the way she reacted, I think she might want it too, even if maybe she doesn’t quite understand. The thought makes me unreasonably happy and has me settling the rest of the way down. That might not have been our moment, but our moment is coming. I know it for sure.
Back downstairs, I hand Olivia a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, and while she goes to change, I start the hot chocolate. Ten minutes later, she comes back into the kitchen, and I swallow hard at the way she looks in my clothes. The hoodie hangs almost to her knees, and the sweatpants bag around her hips, covering her feet as she walks. She looks cozy and comfortable, and I want to wrap my arms around her and sink right into her warmth.
Mine.
“Wow, when you said you make hot chocolate from scratch, you weren’t kidding,” she says, surveying the ingredients lined up on the counter.
I grin at her. “I absolutely was not kidding. Hot chocolate from scratch or not at all, Liv.”
She studies me, sliding into one of the barstools and resting her elbows on the island, propping her chin in her hands. “You have a really nice smile, Bry. You should use it more.”
Her use of my nickname does something to me, and I can’t help but think that all of this feels so wildly right. Her in my clothes, in my kitchen, sitting with me as I cook and the snow falls outside. It’s been a long time since anything in my life felt this good, and it makes me want to hold onto this moment for as long as I can. Leaning on the other side of the island, I reach out, running a finger over Olivia’s hand, smiling inwardly as her breath hitches, and I decide to take a chance. “You make me want to smile all the time.”
