I tried to wriggle free, but he held so tight and in the end I gave up. Instead, I lay there, breathing him in—the faint scent of soap and coffee clinging to his skin, the warmth radiating from him as if he were the single source of heat in the world. My mind spiraled: the way he’d draped his coat over me, those gorgeous blue eyes that sparked every time we traded snark, the strength in him matching my own sarcasm beat for beat. He was perfect, utterly perfect, and he was leaving. Because of course he would—no one ever stayed, not for me. Sadness welled up sharp and sudden, threatening to drown me, and I shoved my stupid self-pity aside. He’d let me go before morning, and I’d walk back to my place, pretending none of this had cracked me open.
And then hide there.
For the rest of my life.
I woke to kisses on my neck, his hard cock pressed against my ass, and a hand snaking down to circle my morning erection. My pulse jumped, a rush of need sparking low in my belly. Did he usually top? Because fuck, I wanted him inside me—not this morning maybe, but soon, and the thought alone nearly undid me. I wasn’t going to let this happen again, I told myself, but then his grip tightened, his strokes sure, and one more orgasm at his hand shattered me. I spilled into his fist with a strangled moan just as he stiffened and came hot on my back.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Good morning,” I whispered back, my chest still heaving, torn between the warmth of him and the fear clawing at my insides. Panic rose sharp and insistent even as I wanted to sink into the closeness. “I need to… I need to go… I have a delivery,” I lied, my voice breaking.
Hunter pushed himself upright, worry etched on his face as he reached to brush his fingers over my arm. “Wes, is everything okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said too fast, pasting on a smile that seemed brittle as glass as I slid out of his hold. “I just have to go.”
He caught my hand, lacing our fingerstogether, refusing to let me pull away. “Are you running?” he asked softly. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, were too knowing. “Please don’t run.”
The plea cut straight through me. Emotion clogged my throat; I wanted to cry. He was leaving—he’d never want this small town, never want me for real. A man like him was wasted here. I tugged my hand free before I broke apart, tried for nonchalance. “I have to go.”
“Will you come see me later for coffee?”
“Sure,” I said, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth. “My usual.”
“Froufrou,” he teased. “With extra cream.”
I melted despite everything. I leaned down, pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, memorizing the taste of him, then forced myself to sit up and dress. It was impossible to focus with his hands still drifting over me—casual touches that burned, his fingers trailing over my skin as if he couldn’t quite stop himself. The boots were stubborn, my fingers clumsy, and I huffed out a laugh and gave up. “It’s not far,” I muttered, deciding bare feet in the snow was fine if it meant escaping before I broke completely.
“Wes—”
“I’ll be in later. Bye.”
I took the stairs two at a time, almost slamming into the wall at the bottom, then stepped out into the sharp cold, breath misting in the air, the snow bitingmy toes as punishment for deciding not to wear my damn boots. I closed the door behind me, then rooted in my pocket for my key. Fuck. I needed to get inside. My chest ached with every step away from him, the warmth of Hunter’s arms still clinging to me. Part of me wanted to turn back, to crawl into bed with him again, to pretend we weren’t on borrowed time. Instead, I hunched into my cloak and whispered to the silent street that I was fine, that I could handle this. But my heart was already unraveling, thread by thread, with every crunch of snow beneath my bare feet.
My brain felt as if it was sprinting ahead without me, thoughts looping and scattering in every direction. I had so much to do, and I would do anything to keep moving, keep busy, anything but stop and think about what I was really running from.
Someone who was going to leave town and never look back.
Saturday was always a busy day for me—the kind where I sometimes thought an assistant might save my sanity, and when Brooke popped in to help, it was always a good thing. The store was a zoo—preschoolers circling me like caffeinated bees, parents trying to corral them, my delivery boxes half-open. Brookeappeared in the doorway like an angel of mercy, coat half-off, Willow clinging to her leg.
“Go breathe,” she ordered, already steering me toward the back. “I’ll man the till for a bit. You look like you’re about to combust.”
“I’m not.”
She stared at me. “What’s wrong? Did Adrian cancel?”
“No, it’s…” I lowered my voice. “I didn’t sleep well because something happened last night.” What was I doing? No one knew about my thing for Hunter, and I was going to blurt it out as if it mattered?
Brooke’s eyes sharpened. “Oh, you finally hooked up with Hunter?”
“What?” I blustered. “No, and why did you go there first?”
She waggled a finger at me. “Well, you and Hunter are like a full-on grumpy versus sunshine trope.”
“A what now?”
“You know where one main character is happy and the other?—”
“I know what the grumpy-sunshine trope is,” I grumbled. “I meant, why do you think that I and…” I stopped talking when she gave me a look, raised eyebrow, head tilting, and a smirk.
