“So you like it here so far?” Mason asks.
“I love it,” I admit honestly. “It’s so different from the city. Quieter. More personal. Everyone seems to know everyone.”
“That’s small-town life,” Dylan says. “Can’t sneeze without someone asking if you’re coming down with something and offering you their grandmother’s secret remedy.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Both,” all four of them say in unison, then laugh.
The waitress comes by to check on us again, and I notice how she’s given up on Slater entirely. She barely glances at him now, just does her job and leaves.
We keep eating and talking, and I lose track of time completely. The restaurant is emptying out around us, but we’re in our own bubble.
At some point, Mason orders another round of drinks. Then Dylan does. Then Jasper.
I’m feeling pleasantly buzzed now, warm and relaxed in a way I haven’t felt in months.
“This is nice,” I say without thinking. “All of this.”
“We think so too,” Mason says. He’s watching me, and the expression on his face is so open, so genuinely happy, that it tightens my chest.
They’re all studying me like that, I realize. And I don’t know what to do with that.
The waitress brings the check, setting it down with a polite smile, and Slater grabs it before anyone else can.
“Time to go,” he announces.
“Already?” I’m surprised by how disappointed I sound.
“It’s almost midnight,” Mason says gently. “And we should get you home.”
“I’m walking her,” Jasper says immediately.
“We’re all walking her,” Dylan corrects.
“I can walk home by myself, you know,” I point out. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Not happening.” Slater’s voice is firm. Absolutely final. “You’re in a town you barely know, it’s late, it’s dark, and there’s still snow on the ground. You’re not walking alone.”
They stand, and I realize arguing is pointless.
Outside the restaurant, the cold collides into me immediately. The snow has stopped, but everything is covered in a fresh white layer that reflects the streetlights and makes the whole town look like a postcard.
Slater heads to a massive four-wheel drive parked down the street, black and intimidating. “Get in,” Mason says, already taking long strides for the passenger’s side.
“I’m literally fifteen minutes away walking,” I protest.
“I’m walking her home,” Jasper reaffirms, sticking by my side while the other two join Slater.
The others get into the car, surprisingly without more argument. And suddenly I’m alone with Jasper on a quiet, snowy street.
Just the two of us with the occasional car driving past.
My heart thunders in my chest, loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it. Every nerve ending sparks from our close proximity. And my panties are soaked, heat pooling between my thighs with an urgency that’s almost painful.
What is happening to me?
His scent is devouring me, consuming every rational thought. The sandalwood, pine, and molasses combined are so powerfully alluring, so masculine, and I can’t get enough.
