Reid doesn’t feel like a fling, but I’ve only known him for a day. Less even. He might go to Crescent Ridge to visit his friend and then leave the next day. He could disappear without me ever seeing him again.
I don’t even have his phone number.
“I’m not saying he’s a bad guy,” she adds quickly. “Maybe he’s great. Maybe he’s amazing. But you can’t build something real when both of you are leaving town.”
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated,” I say, but it sounds weak even to me.
Amber squeezes my hand.
“I just don’t want you to get your heart broken.”
Silence settles over the room. Heavy. I stare out the window at the soft white glow of streetlights bouncing off snow covered roofs.
She means well. She always does, but her warning plants the seed of fear that whispers at the back of my mind.
When she finally stands to leave, she hugs me tight.
“Be careful, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I will.”
As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, the ache sinks deeper. Careful is the last thing I want to be with Reid.
I worked so hard to build a life that belongs to me. My plans. My future. Falling for Reid this fast feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. If I let myself believe this is real and it turns out to be a fling, I don’t just lose him. I lose the version of myself who trusted her own judgment. I don’t know how to survive that kind of mistake, so I do the only thing I can.
I pull away before it can break me.
Reid
Replacing the fuel pump in Jodi’s car is easy.
Focusing on what my hands are doing is another story.
Every time I bend under the hood, I feel her mouth again. Warm, soft, and eager.
I should’ve kissed her again when I walked her door at the inn. I should’ve pushed her hair back and taken my time tasting her. But I held back. Because I want this to be right. Because I want to give her more than a stolen moment in the snow.
Because she deserves more.
Last night a plan formed crystal clear in my head. We’ll exchange numbers and I’ll head to Crescent Ridge early. I won’t crash her family’s Christmas, but I’ll be damned if I’m not in town the day after, already suffering withdrawal from my girl.
I won’t rush her, but I’m not allowing even a whisper of space between us that she could misinterpret as disinterest. I’ll straddle the line between respect and obsession. Nicholas will laugh at me. Hell, the whole town might laugh but I don’t give a damn.
By the time I finish fixing her car, my hands are stained black with grease that takes forever to scrub off. The pink skin beneath feels raw, but the ache in my chest is worse. I’m too wound up. Too wired. Too distracted by the memory of her lips, the sound of her breath hitching when I touched her waist.
I want to see her.
When I finally knock on her door, I’m expecting her smile. The real one that glows from the inside. The one that made me feel like I’d been punched square in the ribs in the best possible way. She’s got three days to make it home but I’m hoping she’ll spend this last morning with me.
She opens the door and she smiles.
But it doesn’t reach her eyes. Ice slides down my spine.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Your car’s fixed.”
“Oh.” Her fingers tighten on the doorframe. “Thank you. Really.”
She’s polite. Too polite. Like she’s talking to a stranger instead of the man she was pressed up against twelve hours ago.
