"I'll drive Claire back to the inn," Sarah announces, grabbing her coat.
"I can walk," Claire says. "It's not far."
"It's dark out. And cold."
"I'll take her."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Everyone turns to look at me. Claire's lips part in surprise.
"I need the air anyway," I add gruffly. "Come on."
I don't wait for her response. Just grab my jacket and head for the door, trusting her to follow.
She does.
The night is crisp and clear, stars scattered across the sky like spilled diamonds. Our breath mists in the cold air as we walk, the crunch of gravel beneath our feet the only sound.
"You didn't have to do this," Claire says quietly.
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
Because I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else being alone with you. Because watching you laugh with Erica made something twist in my gut. Because I'm a selfish bastard who can't seem to stay away.
"Because we need to talk," I say instead.
She stops walking. I take two more steps before turning to face her.
In the moonlight, she looks ethereal. Dark skin luminous, eyes deep and endless. The cold has put color in her cheeks and turned her breath to silver clouds.
"Talk about what?"
"About why you're really here." I close the distance between us, close enough to see the flutter of her pulse at the base of herthroat. "About what you're running from. About what you expect me to do about it."
"I'm not expecting anything, Max."
"Bullshit."
Her chin lifts. That stubborn gesture I'm already learning to recognize. "Excuse me?"
"You didn't drive two thousand miles for nothing. You came looking for something. Someone." I hold her gaze. "So tell me, Claire. What do you want from me?"
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us is ready to name.
She takes a breath. Steps closer.
Close enough that I can smell her. Vanilla and something warm beneath it. Close enough that if I leaned in, our lips would touch.
"I want you to stop running," she whispers. "From me. From whatever happened that made you disappear for ten years." Her eyes search mine. "I want you to see me, Max. Not my father's daughter. Not the thirteen year old from the funeral. Me."
My hands are shaking. I curl them into fists at my sides.
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Then show me."
She's so close. So warm. Every instinct I have screams at me to close the distance. To take her mouth and swallow that challenge whole.
