It didn’t matter that I’d been watching her for weeks. It didn’t matter that I’d started to notice her shifts, that I knew which days she worked and which days she had off. It didn’t matter that when the call came in with her name, my heart had nearly stopped.
None of that mattered, because I wasn’t the kind of man who got the girl. I was the kind of man who watched from a distance, who kept his mouth shut, who stayed invisible.
That was what I knew. That was what was safe.
But as I carried the wood back inside, as I stacked it by the fireplace and felt her eyes on me, I wondered if safe was really what I wanted anymore.
She was still looking at me when I finished. Still watching with those warm brown eyes.
And I let her.
3
MEGHAN
Somewhere between the third cup of terrible instant coffee and the fire’s warmth finally seeping into my bones, I stopped being afraid of Wolfe’s silence.
It wasn’t coldness. I could see that now. It was the way he’d positioned me closer to the fire without saying anything. The way he’d given me the last of the coffee and pretended not to notice. He showed things instead of saying them. And once I understood that, I started noticing everything.
He listened when I talked about my classes, my degree in early childhood education, my plans to teach at the elementary school once I finished. He didn’t interrupt or offer advice or look at his phone. He just watched me with those dark eyes, like every word mattered.
I told him about Teddie, about our little cabin, about growing up in Wildwood Valley and never wanting to leave. I told him about Mrs. Norris and the house sitting gig and how I’d been hoping to catch up on schoolwork during the storm. I talked more than I’d talked to anyone in months, and he absorbed all of it without making me feel like I was too much.
“What about you?” I finally asked. “What brought you to Wildwood Valley?”
He was quiet for a long moment. The fire crackled between us.
“Needed somewhere quieter,” he said. “Somewhere I could breathe.”
It wasn’t much, but it felt like a gift—a sliver of himself that he didn’t give away easily.
The hours slipped by. At some point, I’d moved from the floor to the couch, and he’d moved from the armchair to the other end of the couch. Not close enough to touch, but closer than before. The fire had burned down to embers, casting the room in a soft orange glow.
I didn’t know when the tension shifted. Maybe it had been building all along and I’d just been too cold to notice. But now, warm and safe and looking at this man who’d shown up in a blizzard to save me, I felt something I’d never felt before.
Want. Real, undeniable want.
“I should tell you something,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He turned to look at me, waiting.
“I’ve never been with a man before.” I swallowed hard. “I’m a virgin.”
He went completely still. For a long moment, the only sound was the wind outside and the soft pop of the dying fire.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not expecting?—”
“I know.” I held his gaze. “But I want to.”
The words hung in the air. His jaw tightened. I could see the battle playing out behind his eyes—the part of him that wanted to be careful, to keep his distance, struggling against something else entirely.
“Meghan.” My name sounded different in his mouth. Like a warning and a prayer wrapped together.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel like this,” I said. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
I stood before I could lose my nerve. My hands were shaking as I reached for the hem of my sweater, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled it over my head and let it fall to the floor.
His eyes never left mine.
