I sighed, and it came out more like a growl. I gazed around the snow-covered street. It was like something off a Christmas card—antique lampposts, glowing windows, perfectly kept houses.
But out here, Palmer was alone in the dark and cold. I should probably leave her here. She was an adult making her own choices.
I knew that I couldn’t, though.
“Come on,” I said instead.
Her head popped up, confusion written plainly across her face.
“What?” she asked, baffled.
I opened the door wider and jerked my chin toward the sidewalk. “Get out. I’m not leaving you here to freeze.”
Her spine straightened. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t know why I was so irritated with her. The whole situation was…strange. I wanted to help. I always helped. It was second nature to me.
But something about this felt wrong.
I wasn’t a bed-and-breakfast host. That was my mom’s job. I wasn’t supposed to be taking strangers into the house I was meant to be safeguarding. Maybe that was why I was so frustrated. I wasn’t supposed to be offering rooms. I was supposed to be protecting what little I had left in Ember Hollow.
I leaned closer, dipping down until my entire head was inside her car. I expected her to lean away, but she didn’t.
“We have plenty of room,” I said, my voice low. “Stay at the bed-and-breakfast.”
She inhaled sharply. “I thought it was temporarily closed.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose. “Not for you, it seems.”
“Sitoverthere,bythe fire,” I instructed tersely as we walked through the doors of my childhood home.
I’d lit the fire in the living room shortly before I’d trekked out into the cold to check on her.
Palmer tensed, and I pinned her with a look. Snowflakes steadily melted from her hair now that we were in the warmth. She was holding the larger green blanket of hers close to herchest. I noticed the slight shiver that wavered through her, though.
“That’s okay,” she sputtered. “You’ve already done enough. I can just—go to a room?”
She was staring down at the floor, shoulders tight.
I repressed the urge to sigh. She needed to warm up, and I wasn’t going to send her to a room by herself before I was sure she would be all right.
I reached out, barely touching the lower part of her back as I ushered her into the living room. She let out a little gasp, but didn’t resist me.
“You need to warm up,” I grumbled.
When we came to the armchair closest to the hearth, I pointed to it. “Sit.”
She blinked up at me, dazed, and then plopped down on the cushion.
“What do you want to drink?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Drink?” she squeaked.
I frowned. What was wrong with this woman? It was like she’d never been offered assistance in her life. Hadn’t she been the one who’d come here in the first place, wanting to book a room?
“We have coffee for sure.” I touched my chin as I thought of what else Mom had in the cabinets. “There’s tea and hot chocolate, too, I think.”
When she didn’t answer after a pause, I glanced down at her.
