Page 34 of Wynter

I barely taste the wine he offers me, or the shepherd’s pie. I’m too busy staring at that bed. Picturing us on that gray comforter. Naked. Making love. And wondering how Xavi would react if I abandoned dinner entirely and jumped him.

“Zoe.” Xavi suddenly clears his throat. We’re in the middle of dessert—chocolate ice cream served in clear bowls—and Xavi sets down his spoon. “There’s something I haven’t been honest with you about.”

And just like that, all thoughts of his bed—and us on his bed—dissipate. My stomach rolls, a weight settles on my chest, and I barely manage to choke out a whispered, “What?”

“I didn’t make the shepherd’s pie. I got it from Yes Now, Bob.”

“You didn’t make the shepherd’s pie…” I repeat slowly. “You got it… from Bob’s diner?”

“I’m so sorry, Zoe. I swear I didn’t lie about cooking for you. I even started making Mama’s famous chicken paella. But I was—”

“Xavi.”

“—just so nervous. And it was only supposed to cook for five minutes—”

“Xavi.”

“— and then simmer. But I kept worrying you wouldn’t like it so I ice blocked. And I couldn’t shift back. And—”

“Xavi!”

“Yes?” He stops, shifts his weight, and bites his lower lip.

“I don’t care about the paella. I don’t care what we eat. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

“You are?”

“Of course.” I slide out of my chair, cross the distance between us, and kiss him.

Chapter Eleven

Zoe

Xavi and I talk and make out and watch movies and fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s sweet and perfect—no, he’s sweet and perfect—and I wake up with a smile on my face.

It’s the middle of the night, and Xavi’s side of the bed feels cold to the touch. I spot him at the table in front of his laptop, typing away. Probably going over the robbery clues one more time.

We didn’t get anywhere with those last night, and I’m too tired to get out of bed and try again. So I doze off until I feel his arms wrap around me as he pulls me into his warm, hard chest.

I snuggle into his warmth and smile. It’s ironic that the ice block shifter would feel like a furnace, but he does. And his soft, steady breathing slowly lulls me back to sleep.

I doze in and out, but eventually, I know it’s time to get up. I need to get back to my apartment. I need to make sure Mini didn’t tear the place apart. And I definitely need to feed Snowball.

Xavi has one arm draped over my waist, and I carefully slide out from under it, making sure that I don’t wake him. I grab my jacket, take out my phone to order food, and groan. Dead. Because stupid Mini stole my stupid bed and I didn’t charge it last night… or tonight…

I could just order when I get home, or pick it up on the way, but it would be so much easier to use Xavi’s phone… or better yet, his laptop. It’s on the kitchen table where he left it last night, and I can use it to log into Screech and order my usual from Bob’s.

I pop open the lid, but stop short at the password box. There’s no guest account, but my time at the agency’s taught me two things. Just because passwords are usually meaningful to the person who created them, doesn’t mean you’ll ever be able to guess them. But every once in a while, you’ll luck out and it’s something obvious. Like Xavi’s grandad’s name.

I type it in, and look at that. I grin as I open the browser, only to stop short. Because Xavi has his email open and two words stand out. Cleanly Den.

Xavi, I want that article on the Cleanly Den thief in my inbox by 9am. And none of that creative bullshit, you hear? If the Gazette gets the scoop first, you can kiss your job goodbye.

Suddenly, time stands still. I can hear every little sound in Xavi’s tiny apartment. The humming of the fridge. The clicking of the central heating as it automatically turns on. His spinning laptop fan. And his soft exhales as he sleeps as if nothing’s amiss.

And all the while, my heart pounds loudly in my chest and I forget to breathe. But it can’t be. This is Xavi. Sweet, innocent Xavi. My mate. Who wanted to get to know me, and hold me in his arms last night, because he couldn’t stand for us to be apart.

He wouldn’t just sit there writing about me while I slept in his bed. He wouldn’t betray me. And the document he has open will hold the proof.