If this is the beginning of a second round, I can handle myself if it ends badly. I survived once before. Barely. But Phoebe doesn’t know the sting of that kind of loss. She’s been safe in our cocoon most of her life.
And as I continue to snap photo after photo, I realize it doesn’t matter. Phoebe fell for Aiden that day of her field trip, and now she’s done for. She already loves Aiden Wheeler with her whole big heart, and I have to make sure he won’t break it.
thirteen
CHLOE
Phoebe eventually hitsher wall and falls asleep wrapped in a knit blanket on the couch, Christmas movies murmuring on the TV, and cookie crumbs clinging to her lips.
Aiden plants himself beside me at the sink, swapping between loading dirty dishes into the sink and drying the things I have to hand-wash. I have to say, it’s sexier than it should be. Every once in a while, I sneak a peek at his rolled-up sleeves, his forearms flexing as he works, and I wonder if I’m losing it because it’s been so long since a man has even looked in my direction.
Dish-drying shouldn’t be swoony, and yet here we are.
But this feels dangerously like something that could slip into everyday life—a partnership. Closing the house down before bed, listening to music, and having the space to breathe instead of doing it all alone.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say, scrubbing out the hot chocolate pot.
“I know that.”
“I know you’ve got things to do at the farm. You can head home and work on that. I’ve got this.”
He goes quiet, and I worry my lip as I focus extra hard on getting one scorched piece of chocolate off the bottom of my pan. I’m pretty sure this Christmas tree-shaped Scrub Daddy is mocking me.
“Chloe.”
The heat of his gaze is suffocating.
“Yep?” I squeak out.
That’s embarrassing.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“What?”
And boy, I’m glad I asked before I looked. That grumpy look from the studio is back, and paired with the way he’s propped himself on my counter with one hand, a bright red kitchen towel gripped in the other, words are hard to form.
Really hard.
I secretly want to be a creep and go through his closet and get rid of anything that’s not plaid because it’s averygood look for him.
Abby and her constant lumberjack references will be the death of me.
“I asked if you’d like me to leave.”
“I didn’t say that,” I tell him. “I’m just, you know, giving you an out. You’ve got plenty to do, and we’ve already occupied enough of your time today?—”
He steps in, his voice low, but even. “Let me be the judge of where I want to spend my time.”
Goosebumps race down my arms at his proximity, and I’ve got a first row seat to the storm in his eyes.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I know I showed up without an invitation tonight,” he says, “but do you mind if I ask you a question?”
His tone isn’t nosy. It’s careful, like he knows the answer will be heavy. But he’s not moving either, and it’s hard to keep my guard up when I’m fending off internal butterflies.
“Sure.”
