“Jesus,” she gasps. “You’re a fucking liar. That was a million times worse than the other stuff.”
“It’s a sipping whiskey,” I reply flatly. “That was your first mistake. Second, this is Macallan 45. It’s better than the bottle you found. Not my fault, you’ve got the palate of a college freshman.”
Her brows shoot up. Her weight shifts, hip cocked out with attitude. “Excuse you. I amnotsome sorority girl who can’t handle her liquor. Also, I graduate next year, thank you very much. But it’s good to know you’re still a snob under all that flannel and facial hair.”
I can’t help it. The full-body laughter pulls from my throat, deep and so unexpected it startles us both.
Her expression softens, a smile tugging at her bow-shaped lips before her soft laughter joins in too.
I flip the steaks and turn back, giving her my full attention.
“Snobby, huh?” I mutter. That word sticks like a wood sliver under the nail. I think back to who I used to be, a man obsessed with productivity and appearances. One who needed to be the best in whatever he did. Fast cars, faster promotions, and the unattached lifestyle it led me to. I barely existed outside the firm’s schedule.
Ava’s always been around. She’s Stephen’s only daughter.But she was never more to me than one of his offspring. Young, loud, and carefree. I never found the space to be an uncle figure, despite how close I am to her father. I never tried because kids were never my thing. Certainly, never wanted any of my own with the women who flipped through my bedroom like a catalog in a waiting room.
Maybe it’s a blessing.
“Grab your gross bottle of whiskey if you aren’t going to appreciate mine and the silverware. These are done,” I tell her, plating the steaks. I pick up my glass, circling the counter toward the table where she’s set two spots. Everything looks… domestic, which feels wrong in so many ways that my brain short-circuits when I try to further the idea.
Clearing my throat and taking a seat, I manage to grumble, “Hope medium works for you.”
“Ew. Seriously? I only eat well-done.”
My silverware clatters against the plate. I give her a slow stare, already deciding I’ll eat both steaks myself and drink the rest of this Macallan in my room with the door locked. But then she smirks.
That sassy little grin grabs my dick’s attention. I shift in my seat, trying to create more space between us, before I do something idiotic, like say “fuck it” and haul her ass over my knee.
“Kidding. Medium’s perfect.”
I sigh, and she finally sits on the other side of the small seating area. The cabin falls quiet again, except for the wind building outside, the faint hiss of the pan cooling down, and my heartbeat still far too loud in my ears.
This is going to be a long night.
FIVE
AVA
The steak tastes amazing, rich flavors dance around every melt-in-your-mouth bite, but it might as well be a bucket of popcorn for how fast I’m trying to shovel it down. Every rushed bite is a knock on death’s door, every swallow a silent prayer for the night to be one step closer to ending.
The silence between us is uncomfortable. The kind that makes you hyper-aware of every scrape of metal on ceramic, every tick from the clock clear across the kitchen. I wish the generator would run out and throw us back into darkness, so I didn’t have to take in the man across from me.
Scott isn’t helping. He stares at his plate like it’s the most interesting puzzle he’s ever been tasked with solving, only glancing up when I’m too busy chewing to catch it. The second I stop, fork hovering mid-air, he’s right back to looking anywhere but at me.
This is fucking weird, but maybe it’s my fault. If I hadn’t let my inner thoughts slip out subconsciously, he wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact like it’s an Olympic sport. But I couldn’tstop my appreciative gaze from cascading across his body. It’s too built in all the right places, the epitome of power and rugged sex appeal.
I’ve known him nearly my whole life. Vacations to this very cabin. Barbecues back home. Birthdays when my mom didn’t want him celebrating with whatever half-his-age gold digger he was seeing at the moment. But I can’t remember a single time we’ve ever been alone like this, without someone looming behind us as the common thread.
Now here we are. Just the two of us. In a cabin miles away from anything or anyone. And a storm that won’t settle, sealing us in.
I finish the last bite, not even waiting to chew properly, before I’m out of the chair like my ass is on fire. Grabbing my plate, I speed-walk to the sink. But I move too fast, losing my grip. My fingers, slick from grease, lose traction, and the dish slips through them like silk. I fumble, trying to catch it, but it hits the ceramic basin with a shattering crack.
“Fuck,” I whisper, lungs tightening at the silence permeating around us.
I bend forward, already reaching in to scoop up the jagged pieces before they find their way into the drain. Without a second thought, I move on autopilot, reacting to the situation that’s stolen my opportunity to flee.
“Just leave it,” Scott calls out behind me.
But the words are too late. My palm finds a cruel edge. Pain lances through the fleshy part below my thumb, biting deep through more than one layer of skin.
