I pad to the west-side window, pressing close to the glass. Down in Bluewater Bluffs, the town lights blink off in waves, a domino trail until the whole valley is swallowed in shadow. “I don’t think flipping the breaker is going to help. It’s not just us—it’s everywhere.”
“Town-wide blackout?” He comes to stand beside me, shoulder brushing mine as we both look out.
“Looks like it.”
He exhales, running his hand through his hair before heading toward the back door. “Then I’d better get the fire going. Don’t want us freezing to death if this lasts.”
I watch as he disappears onto the back deck, his flashlight beam bobbing while he grabs a couple of logs from the woodpile. He returns with them balanced easily under one arm, the other tugging the door shut with a thud.
He kneels at the fireplace, sleeves shoved up past his elbows, and my eyes betray me—fixating on him instead of what he’s doing. His forearms are all lean strength, sinew shifting beneath tanned skin. Veins ridge the surface, not in an overdone way, but enough to remind me how easily those hands could pin me, holdme, protect me. When he presses the newspaper into the grate, the muscles in his wrist flex, a smooth ripple that makes my stomach tighten.
The lighter sparks, flames catching fast, the crackle of burning paper filling the silence before the logs flare.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
The warmth licks at my skin as the glow stretches into the room, but I’m not watching the fire at all. I’m watching him. Watching the way strength looks effortless on him, the way his body feels like a memory. And God help me, I can’t stop wondering how those arms would feel if they wrapped around me again.
I sink back into the couch and raise my book like a shield, trying to keep his arms from view before he notices, but Sterling crosses the room, plucks the book straight from my hands, and sets the bookmark in before he closes it with a firm snap.
“Hey!” I reach for it, frowning.
“If I don’t get to be productive,” he says, smirking down at me, “you don’t get to hide in your book.”
“Uh, excuse me?” I protest. “I wasn’t hiding. Plus, I never told you that you couldn’t go back on your laptop.”
He sighs, tapping a knuckle lightly against my head like he’s testing for hollowness. “Power’s out, genius. That means no Wi-Fi.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Oh, right.”
He smirks harder at my embarrassment, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, what do we do now?”
I shrug, fighting the flutter in my chest. “You tell me.”
Sterling thinks for a beat, the fire painting shadows across his features. “Do you have any board games?”
A smile spreads across my face. “Actually…yes.”
I hop up, my excitement tugging me across the room to the bookshelf. Kneeling, I rummage through the bottom shelf untilmy hand lands on the box I’ve been looking for. I turn back to him with a grin.
He ambles over, slowly, like he knows I’m watching the way his body moves. My heart kicks up a notch in response because how can he have changed so much in just three years?
When he sees what I’m holding, his brows shoot up. “Candyland?”
“The original version,” I say proudly.
He takes the box, studying it like it’s some ancient relic. “Is there a difference between this one and the newer one?”
I take the box back from him and plop onto the rug in front of the fire, the game in my lap. “The art is better. The new one looks cheap.”
His chuckle rumbles low, and when I glance up, his eyes are still on me, the firelight flickering across them in a way that makes my stomach flip.
Focus, Maisy.
Sterling disappears into the kitchen while I set up the board on the rug, smoothing it flat. A moment later, I hear the pop of a cork, and when I look over, he’s walking back with a bottle of red in one hand and two glasses dangling from the other.
My brows shoot up. “What, we’re turning Candyland into a drinking game now?”
He smirks, setting the bottle on the side table beside us before lowering himself to the floor next to me. “Why not? High stakes. Loser drinks.”
