As I reached the door, I thought of the moment Braxton stepped between me and James without making me feel helpless. I thought of the way he noticed when I was struggling even before I did. And I thought about how, despite the mess of the day, his presence had made me feel less alone.
I opened the door quietly, letting the warmth wash over me. Lucy looked up from her book with a grin.
“You survived,” she said.
“I did,” I replied, closing the door behind me. “And they loved the food.”
She held out a blanket like an invitation. “Come tell me everything.”
Chapter Seven: A Situation
Jane
The heater made a strange noise right before I opened my eyes. It was somewhere between a cough and a sigh, the kind of sound a person would make when they were about to giveup but had not quite committed to it yet. I lay very still and listened. After a few seconds, it rattled once and settled into its usual uneven hum.
“Five more minutes,” Lucy groaned, pulling the covers over her head.
“You said that five minutes ago,” I mentioned, pulling back the covers and sitting up. “And the five minutes before that.”
The air in the pool house still carried a slight bite above the warmth. The floor was cold when I swung my feet down, and I hurried into my socks and boots. Frost feathered across the window, pretty and completely unhelpful. The bed behind me creaked as Lucy finally sat up.
“This better be the best wedding anyone has ever seen,” she grumbled. “Otherwise I am invoicing them for my frostbite.”
“You don’t have frostbite,” I dryly told her.
“My soul does,” Lucy insisted.
I smiled despite myself and reached for my sweater. We gathered our toiletries and stepped out into the courtyard. The morning air hit my face like a handful of ice. Our breaths puffed out in little clouds as we crossed the space between the pool house and the inn.
From this angle, the Snowdrop Inn looked like a postcard. Warm light glowed through the dining room windows. Evergreen boughs framed the front door. Somewhere inside, I knew there was coffee. I fixed my focus on that.
Lucy crisply knocked on Dex’s door. A moment later the door opened, Dex standing there with the wary expression of a man expecting a crisis. His hair stuck up in all directions. He relaxed when he saw it was only us.
“Oh,” he said. “Morning.”
“Bathroom,” Lucy said, lifting her bag.
“Right,” he said, stepping aside. “Use whatever towels you like. Just not mine.”
“Which are yours,” she asked.
“The used ones,” he said.
From inside the room, Braxton said, “We got extra yesterday so there are plenty.”
“Good.” Lucy slipped past them into the bathroom. I lingered in the doorway, suddenly aware that I was about to walk into a shared room with two men who had not fully finished waking up yet.
Braxton was already dressed, with his sleeves neatly rolled and his hair slightly rumpled in a way that looked unintentional and entirely unfair. He gave me a small, real smile.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” I said back.
He studied my face for a second. “Did you sleep well?”
“Somewhat. The heater kept making noises,” I said. “How did you sleep?”
“Dex kicks.”
