Her laugh is breathless. “You’re trouble, Sebastian Ford.”
“So are you, Willa Mathews.”
I kiss her again.
Slower.
Softer.
She smiles against my mouth, and I feel it all the way to my bones.
For a few seconds, we just stand there, forehead to forehead, breath mingling in the cold, like the world has narrowed to this one, quiet moment.
Then she shifts slightly in my arms.
“I should go inside,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t move.
“I know.”
Her fingers linger at my collar. “Early start tomorrow. I’ve got shelves to organize, dough to prep...”
“Bread to rise,” I finish for her.
She nods, smiling again. “That too.”
I don’t want to let go. Not yet. But I step back, just enough to give her space. Her hands fall away slowly, like she’s reluctant too.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “You will.”
She hesitates at the bakehouse door, glancing back once.
“Goodnight, Sebastian.”
“Goodnight, Willa.”
She slips inside, the door shutting behind her with a soft click.
I stay put for a second, jaw tight, the cold doing nothing to settle the heat still burning under my skin.
Then I turn and head back toward the inn, hands clenched, her smile still etched behind my eyes like a scar I didn’t see coming.
Yeah.
This is trouble.
And I’m already neck-deep in it.
Chapter 6
Willa
Thewaterturnsicecold halfway through rinsing the conditioner from my hair.
I yelp, stumble back from the spray, and fumble for the knobs before my spine freezes solid.
Great.
