“First of all, ew. Second of all, we’re dangling hundreds of feet in the air on what’s basically a metal lawn chair strung up by a glorified clothesline!”
“It’s not a clothesline, Maisy.” His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “It's a steel cable. Made to hold, I don’t know, way more weight than your five-foot-nothing frame is putting on it.”
“Five-foot-three,” I bite back.
“Sure.” He smirks. “On a good day and in boots.”
I jab him in the side with my elbow, and to my horror, the chair sways again. I let out a squeak, gripping his arm like my life depends on it.
Sterling’s laugh rings out, warm and rich in the freezing air. “Okay, okay. Stop moving before you actually do send us crashing.”
“I hate you,” I say again, glaring at him as I rip my hands away from him, but my heart is hammering too hard for me to really mean it.
His voice grows soft. “No, you don’t.”
Something in my chest twists and I open my mouth to fire back, but the words get stuck in my throat, forcing the silence to press in again.
I risk a glance at him, noticing how close he’s sitting, heat radiating from his body even through all the layers between us. His dark eyes catch mine again, and suddenly it feels like the whole world has narrowed to just us in this chair.
“You’re still the worst,” I whisper, noticing how softly I say it.
His lips curve, but it’s not quite a smile. “So I’ve been told.”
The air between us grows charged, and my breath fogs in front of me. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, I forget all about the lift. His gaze pins me in place, the only thing I can focus on asthe silence stretches. My pulse is pounding so loud that I swear he must hear it.
The lift creaks again, swaying with the wind, and it breaks whatever spell we were under. I look away, shivering as I feel the cold creep in. Sterling notices, and without a word, he digs into his pocket and pulls out two hand warmers. He cracks them, shakes them, then holds them out toward me.
“Here. Put these in your gloves.”
I fumble, pulling my gloves off with my teeth so I can grab the warmers and stuff them inside, but somehow both gloves slip and plunge for the snowy mountain below us. We both watch as they tumble in slow motion, bouncing once against the metal bar before plummeting into the snowy darkness below.
“Shit.” My voice is loud in the silence. “That was my favorite pair.”
For a moment, neither of us say anything. We’re both staring down at the spot where my gloves disappeared.
Sterling sighs, then, to my surprise, he yanks his own gloves off and stuffs the warmers inside. Before I can protest, he’s shoving them onto my hands.
“Sterling—”
“Don’t start.” His tone is final as he tugs the second one snug around my wrist and my hands explode in warmth.
“But your hands will freeze?—”
“I’ll be fine.” He cuts me off again, his jaw tight, eyes turned away, scanning the darkness surrounding us like the cold doesn’t even bother him. His bare hands disappear into his jacket pockets.
I stare at him, at the stubborn set of his shoulders, at the way he pretends this isn’t costing him anything, and my throat feels tight.
“Sterling…” I whisper, softer this time.
He finally looks at me, and the weight of his gaze nearly knocks the air from my lungs. His eyes are searching, and too familiar. It’s too much, but I don’t want it to stop.
The space between us shrinks without either of us moving, and my breath clouds the air, mingling with his. The chair creaks again, swaying, but neither of us looks away this time.
It would be so easy—too easy—to lean in and close that tiny gap. I can almost remember how his lips felt on mine. His gaze drops, just for a heartbeat, to my mouth, and my pulse trips as I realize he’s probably thinking the same thing.
Sterling starts to lean in, and I’m prepared for it, but the lift jolts back to life and jerks us forward with a loud groan. I gasp, grabbing the safety bar to steady myself, and the spell shatters once more.
Sterling clears his throat, turning his face away as if nothing happened. “Told you it wouldn’t be all night.”
