“Or we could go with the truth.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You want the truth? Okay, here goes. I thought you were incredibly smug.”
“How so?”
“You strutted around, smirked, smoldered. You argued with me about permits, procedures, and the placement of ant bait containers. You take charge of everything.”
“I’ve been doing this for a long time. I prefer to think of myself as confident.”
“Cocky.”
I tip my head to the side because her comments are endearing rather than scathing. “Is that all?”
Riled up and cheeks growing darker still, she counters, “No, I’m just getting started. You never asked for help, teased me in front of people, and wouldn’t share your Crush Cakes.”
“I just try to be the best at my job and maybe—” I rock back on my heels. “When I first saw you, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time. Maybe ever. It felt dangerous, so I deflected.Yet couldn’t keep away. It’s foolish, but looking back, I was scratching an itch by getting a rise out of you.”
“I don’t even want to know why. You’re also devoid of emotion except for grouchiness—the kind of person who doesn’t talk about their feelings, avoids meaningful conversations and connections with people. Your house is empty, a tribute to your lone wolfiness?—”
“That would be Scotty.”
“You probably have neighboring man caves. No, dens.” She’s on a roll and can’t seem to stop herself.
I reach out and sweep snow from her hair the way I did sawdust in the bakery. But this time, I let my hand linger.
Winnie’s gaze darts everywhere but at me. I cup her face and my touch silences her—that’s a detail worth jotting on a sticky note.
“So what you’re saying is you and I are alike, two flames matching each other’s energy?”
“No. What? That’s not?—”
I continue, “I’m not saying you’re a grouch or even smug, but you don’t back down. I push, you dig in. You’re unshakable, even when I’m at my?—”
“At your growliest,” she finishes for me with an adorable little snarl around her choice of words.
I find myself grinning. “My job is to tame fires and you refuse to be anyone but yourself. You don’t let anyone dim your light. I happen to respect that. You. Maybe I even like it.”
She pushes out her bottom lip, but her eyes find mine and in them I see a spark.
“If we’re going to tell the truth, I want you to know that I don’t have this figured out. I’m terrible at relationships. You’re right, I push people away. I carry everything alone because I’m terrified of losing anyone else. But with you—” I pause, tryingto find the right words. “With you, I keep forgetting why I’m supposed to keep my distance.”
“Patton …” she starts as if she expected us to have a throw-down, knock-out fight when, in reality, we just keep shifting closer and closer together.
“I know this is complicated. I know we’re working together. I know the whole town is watching and probably betting on when we’ll?—”
Standing still, she seems to lose her balance.
I catch her reflexively, and I draw her close, let her lean on me until we’re inches apart. Her hands land on my chest, my arms loop around her waist, and we both breathe hard.
Snow falls around us like we’re in a snow globe.
“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes capturing mine.
I don’t look away. “Took you long enough to fall into my arms.”
“I didn’t fall—I lost my balance.”
“Sure you did.” I wipe a snowflake from her cheek, letting my hand linger again. “That’s what they all say.”
