The nickname hits low. Familiar. Heavy.
I close my eyes.
“Did I do something?” he asks quietly. “Say something?”
“No,” I whisper. “Not to me.”
He goes still.
Then softer—almost painfully soft—“What did you hear?”
I swallow. “Just something about… not wanting me to get the wrong idea.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Natalie.”
“I get it,” I say, forcing a smile he can’t see. “We’re from different worlds. I’m here for a job. I’m not expecting anything?—”
“No,” he says sharply.
I blink.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “Not even close.”
He steps closer—one slow, careful step—and my heart stumbles against my ribs.
“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he says, voice breaking at the edges. “I was trying not to scare you off.”
My breath catches. “Scare me off?”
He nods once, jaw tight. “I’ve done this wrong before. Rushed things. Let people down. I didn’t want you thinking I expected anything—or that you owed me anything—just because you’re here helping my family.”
I stare at him, confusion and hope tangling inside me until I can’t tell them apart.
“I wasn’t protecting myself from you,” he says quietly. “I was trying to protectyoufrom me.”
Oh.
Oh.
Heat blooms under my skin—slow and bright.
He moves closer. Then closer still.
Until the porch light catches the faint snow in his hair.
Until I can feel his breath on my cheek.
Until the world narrows to the steady warmth of him.
“Natalie,” he murmurs, voice low and rough in the cold air, “I’ve wanted you from the moment you stood in my doorway.”
The breath I’ve been holding shatters into a visible cloud.
“And I’ve been fighting it,” he says. “Hard.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because wanting you feels big.” He swallows. “Feels like something I shouldn’t start unless I know I won’t want to stop.”
