The crunch of gravel outside makes my heart do this weird double thump.
She’s here.
I pull open the door before she even has a chance to knock. And there she is—wearing a crewneck sweatshirt and sweatpants, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She looks good enough to eat, and when I catch a whiff of her, I suddenly want to have a taste.
Down, boy.
“Hey,” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual. “Come on in.”
“Wow.” Lucy steps inside, glancing around the cabin. “This is cozy. I’ve never actually been in one of these cottages.”
“Really? Never?” I ask, closing the door behind her. “You’ve been missing out. Want a quick tour?”
She raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Isn’t it, like, one room?”
“Technically, it’s two,” I say, holding up the peace sign. “The living area and kitchen. But there’s also a bathroom and a small bedroom. Don’t underestimate the grandeur of this place. I’m digging it so far.”
“That’s because it’s decorated so damn cute.” Her gaze sweeps over the space, landing on the walls. “Look at this wallpaper—it’s fantastic.”
I glance at the wallpaper, a pattern that looks like it came straight out of the ’70s: pine cones and berries. A round wooden mirror hangs over a tiny table in the small space comprising the entrance. “Fantasticis one way to describe it.”
She laughs, running a hand over the back of the couch. “No, really, it’s cute.”
I lead her toward the tiny kitchen, which takes all of three steps to get to. “This is where the magic happens. Bymagic, I mean popcorn and hot chocolate.”
She leans against the counter, arms crossed. “Is that why you have a pot on the stove and marshmallows at the ready? You were really prepared for this, huh?”
“Always,” I say, smirking. I don’t disclose the fact that the only thing I’ve been thinking about today is her arrival. “The kitchen’s tiny, but efficient. And the fridge doesn’t smell weird, which is a win.”
“High standards,” she teases.
I motion toward a small door in the corner, then walk over and push it open so she can peer inside. “Voilà! Here we have the bathroom. Complete with a mirror, a toilet, and zero spiders. As promised.”
“You weren’t kidding about the rustic charm. Cute and cozy.”
“It’s home for the week.” I lean against the doorframe. “Does the trick.”
We head back to the living room and sink onto the couch; Lucy pulls her legs up under her and attempts to get comfortable.
“Welp. I’m officially in love with this place.” Her fingers stroke the throw blanket there. “Fun fact: Annabelle’s aunt and uncle own the lodge, and oddly, she and I never spent the night in any of the rooms. Or these cabins. But maybe I should suggest it for a staycation—this is too, too cute.”
“You’re welcome to hang out here as long as you like.”
She tilts her head, studying me. Ignores my suggestion with a shake of her head, smile fading as she glances at the coffee table. “All right, let’s see if your movie selection lives up to the hype.” She pulls outComing to Americaand holds it up. “Let’s start with this one. It’s a classic.”
“Good choice,” I say, leaning back as she sets up the tape.
As the opening credits roll and she settles back onto the couch, I can’t help but glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her messy bun is slightly lopsided, her hoodie sleeves are pushed up to her elbows, and she looks completely at ease.
And that’s when my brain begins with theThere’s a girl in your house, dude. A female. And she smells good. Like vanilla and something faintly floral. How do girls do that? Smell like a delicious candle but also: sunshine?
I shift slightly, trying not to overthink it, but my brain’s having none of that.She’s sitting close enough that if you moved a few inches, your knee would touch hers.
Do it.
Touch your knee to her knee.
I shake my head and force my focus back on the screen. Eddie Murphy is talking, jokes are being made, and I’m trying my best to keep up.
