But he steps closer – slowly and deliberately, like approaching a skittish creature he doesn’t want to spook. “Willow,” he murmurs, “what did you see up there yesterday? At the lodge?”
I swallow hard. “A place worth saving.”
“And what else?”
Damn him. Why does he make seeing me feel like breathing for him? “I saw …”
No. Absolutely not.
“I saw the problem with your proposal,” I snap, turning abruptly. But the space is too narrow, the table too close, and I misjudge the distance. We collide and his chest brushes mine. Graham’s eyes lock on mine, heat simmering so openly I nearly forget how to stand.
“That’s a lie,” he says softly.
The room shrinks around us.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“What does it matter?” I whisper.
“It matters,” he says, stepping in until my back touches the warm brick wall beside the pastry display. “Because it changed me.”
The world tilts. “What?”
He braces one hand near my head, lowering his voice to a velvet whisper. “When you talked about the tree … when I saw what this town means to you …”
He swallows and it’s barely visible only because I’m too close.
“Willow, I revised the entire plan last night because of you.”
My breath stutters. “You don’t get to say that,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to owe you anything.”
His jaw tightens, but his voice stays maddeningly calm. “I don’t want you to owe me. I want you to believe me.”
He leans in close enough that his breath warms my cheek. “This is a mistake,” I whisper, too soft.
“Then tell me to stop.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He inches closer, his gaze dipping to my mouth, his presence filling every inch of space.
“Willow! Oh good, you’re here!”
We both jerk apart so fast a stack of holiday cookie tins wobbles behind him. Rosie barrels into the bakery holding a box of candy canes, breath puffing from the cold she carried in.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she chirps. “Spencer needs your approval on the vendor placement map.”
Graham clears his throat, turning away. His control slams back into place like a steel door.
“Please look over the updated plan,” he says quietly. “And Willow … this isn’t finished.”
The bell over the door jingles as he leaves, the morning light catching on the hard line of his jaw as he disappears down Main Street. My knees nearly go out. Rosie watches him go, then turns to me with a wicked grin.
“Not finished, huh?”
I glare. “Don’t.”
