Which means I have to be careful in an entirely new way.
I clear my throat and force my voice into Professional Tone #3: invaded-by-feelings-but-still-focused.
“Okay,” I say briskly. “Tree goes in that corner. Garland across the loft railing. Cocoa bar along the back wall. Once the storm clears, we can go get the actual tree.”
He nods, watching me far too closely.
“Sounds good,” he says. “Natalie?”
“Mm?”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not nervous,” he says gently. “Not with me.”
My breath stutters.
“I’m not nervous,” I try.
His brow lifts.
“…Okay. Maybe I’m a little nervous.”
“Why?”
I hesitate. The truth is terrifying. But, so is the silence.
“Because,” I say finally, “you make it very hard to stay objective.”
His eyes darken—warm, not sharp.
He steps closer.
Not touching.
Just close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“Maybe you don’t need to stay objective,” he says quietly.
My pulse roars in my ears.
“Calder…”
He doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t pull back. He just waits.
Patiently. Steadily. Both of those words being exactly who he is.
And then?—
A loud bang echoes from somewhere outside the cabin.
I jump so hard I nearly drop my clipboard.
Calder’s hands land on my arms before I even register moving.
He exhales slowly. “Snow off the shed roof,” he says.
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “This mountain is trying to kill me.”
He laughs—soft and low, warm enough to melt every thought in my head.
