“They’re wrong.” His arms tighten around me. “You’re persistent. There’s a difference.”
The wind howls around us. Snow stings my cheeks. But somehow, with Ben’s arms around me, it doesn’t feel as cold.
“Why won’t you do it?” I ask. “The auction. Really.”
“Tessa—”
“I’m not asking as the event planner. I’m asking as...” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. As what?
“As what?” he asks.
“As someone who’s been wearing your jacket for a week because it smells like you and I didn’t want to give it back.”
He stumbles. Actually stumbles.
“You’ve been wearing it?”
“It was comforting. When I was stressed.” God, why am I admitting this? “Which is ridiculous because you drive me crazy and you won’t answer my calls and you literally ran out the back door of Millie’s to avoid me?—”
“I didn’t run. I walked quickly.”
“You knocked over a busboy.”
“He was in my way.”
“Ben.”
“The auction doesn’t matter,” he says abruptly.
“It matters to me.”
“No, I mean—” He takes a breath. “It doesn’t matter if I’m in it or not. You’ll raise plenty of money without me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”
I want to push. I want to demand he tell me the truth, the real reason behind all the jokes and evasions.
But I’m so tired. And his arms are so warm. And he came for me. In this storm. For me.
“Fine,” I murmur. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Never thought it was.”
“My turn.”
Milo appears out of the snow, grinning despite the ice crusting his eyebrows.
“Hand her over, Wilson.”
The transfer is smoother this time. I’m getting used to being passed between alphas like a very cold, very grumpy package.
Milo’s scent wraps around me. Dark chocolate and amber, rich and warm. Sweet and inviting and somehow exactly what I needed.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He settles me against his chest. “How you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.”
