I force myself to ease back.
We both breathe hard when our mouths separate, warm puffs of air mingling between us in the cold. Her eyes are enormous, pupils blown wide, lips a little swollen.
There’s confusion there. And something else.
“Damn,” I murmur, loud enough for Eric to hear, letting a slow, crooked grin pull at my mouth. “I’ve missed those lips.”
Her brows twitch up, surprised, but she doesn’t contradict me.
Behind me, Eric sputters. “What the—You—Who the hell are you to?—”
I don’t look at him.
I keep my gaze on her, on the little pink flags blooming in her cheeks, on the way her breathing starts to settle.
Time to move.
“Let’s get inside and warm up, baby,” I say, making the endearment sound natural, long-practiced.
Before she can overthink, I reach down and thread my fingers through hers.
Her hand is small and cold in mine. She stiffens for a second, then squeezes back.
That’s our story, then.
I turn us toward the cabin like I’ve done it a thousand times before, like this is something we always do—argue outside, kiss, go in, shut the world out. Like Eric is nothing but an inconvenient stranger shouting into the wind.
I don’t give him a single glance as I lead her up the steps.
He swears again, voice cracking around the edges.
“Holley!” he shouts. “What the fuck was that? You seeing some old biker now? Seriously?”
I open the front door with my free hand like it’s my place, not hers, and usher her inside.
“Don’t forget to lock it behind me,” I say casually. I memorized the lock code from the reservation.
Even though we both know she’s the one who lives here.
She steps over the threshold, head ducking as if trying to make herself small.
I let go of her hand only when she’s clear and put my palm on the edge of the door.
Only then do I glance back at him.
He’s standing in the driveway, face blotchy red, fists clenched, chest heaving under his cheap jacket. He looks like the kind of man who’s used to being the center of his own universe, suddenly realizing he’s not even a blip on anyone else’s radar.
“Like I said,” I tell him, voice calm, cool. “This isn’t the time or place. She doesn’t owe you a damn thing out here.”
He opens his mouth to fire back, but I move to the door lock, entering the code, then the cabin, and shut the door before he gets a syllable out.
I flip the deadbolt with a solid, satisfying thunk.
Silence drops over the cabin like a blanket.
For a few seconds, all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart and the faint, thin edge of my breath. I’m suddenly aware of the heat of the place, the homey smell of pine cleaner and coffee, the wood tones of the walls and floor.
And Holley.
