Nia huffed, the ghost of a laugh breaking through her composure. “You’re insufferable.”
“Most people call it charming.”
“Most people are wrong.”
Soren chuckled, the sound low in her chest. “You always this mean to the help?”
Nia’s gaze snapped back to hers. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Turn everything into a joke.”
The challenge in her tone tugged something inside Soren. She stepped closer, just enough that she could smell the floral scent of Nia. “Can’t help it,” she said quietly. “You make me nervous.”
That earned a startled blink. “I do not.”
“You do.” Soren smiled, not teasing this time. “You walk in looking like the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m standing here covered in grease. Of course I’m nervous.”
Nia’s lips parted, a retort half-formed, but it never came. For a long moment they just stood there, the hum of the pipes filling the silence.
“You’re staying here now?” she asked finally, gesturing toward the hall.
“Ellis figured it’s safer than me driving home every night. Said he’d comp me a room until the storm breaks.”
“I see.”
The words were neutral, but her eyes betrayed her—something quick and conflicted flickering behind the calm.
Soren watched her a moment longer, then nodded toward the repaired panel. “Heat’s good now. Shouldn’t knock anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Doc.”
Nia turned toward the door, pausing halfway. “Try to get some sleep.”
“You too,” Soren said, voice softer now.
She waited until Nia’s footsteps faded down the corridor before she let out a long breath and ran a hand through her hair.
Not a coincidence.
Not even close.
Soren grinned to herself, shaking her head as she turned back to her tools. “Guess this job just got a whole lot more interesting.”
Steam curled out from the bathroom in lazy ribbons as Soren toweled off, the quiet hum of the storm pressing close around the lodge. The hot shower had done its job—her muscles had finally unclenched after a day of battling frozen pipes—but her head was still buzzing.
No matter how she tried to settle, her mind kept circling back to Nia.
That last look in the hallway. The careful mask she’d put back on. The way she’d stood too close before walking away.
Soren raked a hand through her damp hair, let out a low breath. “Stop it,” she muttered. “You’re not a teenager.”
She was halfway to finding something to wear when there was a knock at the door—soft, quick, uncertain. Not the kind of knock that belonged to Mr. Ellis or anyone on staff.
Soren froze, heartbeat suddenly loud in her ears.
