Chapter 2
two
. . .
CADE
I’d been standing outside Mistletoe Bay Brewing Company long enough for the cold to settle into my bones, my breath fogging in the night air. Ten different times, I almost turned around and left.
“Just do it already,” I muttered, cupping my hands and blowing into them for warmth. Should’ve grabbed my gloves from the boat when I left it this morning.
With shaking hands, I finally pressed the buzzer. For several long seconds, nothing happened. I hit it again, holding it down longer this time, but still nothing. So I knocked—two quick raps, then once more when the silence continued to stretch.
What felt like an eternity later, the light over the door snapped on, a sudden glare in the dark that made my pupils squeeze tight. I blinked hard, my vision sharpening just as the locks clicked and the door opened.
Stella stood there in nothing but a dark green silk robe, damp hair curling against her neck, her skin still warm and flushed from a bath.
My mouth literally watered.
She was gorgeous and tired and absolutely fed up with me—and I still wanted her anyway.
“Hey,” I managed, because that was all I could manage without sounding like I’d just sprinted up a flight of stairs.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
I honestly didn’t. All I knew was that it was hours after I usually crawled into bed, and I was going to pay for it tomorrow morning.
“Late?” I tried.
Her mouth flattened into a line that said “yes, and you’re an idiot.”
“I just want to talk,” I added quickly, shifting my weight to try and generate some warmth. “For real this time.”
She folded her arms, which—Christ—pushed her tits together in a way I couldn’t not notice and absolutely hated myself for noticing at the same time.
“Pretty sure you did enough talking today.”
“That wasn’t talking,” I corrected, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “That was me trying to get your attention and you pretending I was a gnat to be swatted away.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. Not a smile, exactly, but the start of one before she forced it back.
Someone less attuned to Stella McKinley’s mannerisms might have missed it, but I’d spent half my teenage years chasing that sliver of a reaction from her. Telling the dumbest jokes I could think of, pulling the lamest pranks, just to see if I could earn that exact twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“Can I come in?” I asked before she remembered that she hated me.
A long beat passed before Stella finally moved aside with an audible huff of annoyance. “Fine. But wipe your damn boots.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured, stepping inside and scraping my boots on the mat.
After locking the door, Stella crossed the brewery floor with me trailing behind.
The air was warm, carrying that sweet beer smell mixed with whatever lotion or perfume she wore—something I’d never been able to pin down but always knew was hers.
She climbed the stairs ahead of me, and I had to force my eyes up from where her robe clung to her curves.
When we reached the top, I stopped. Her loft was … a lot. There were plants everywhere, fairy lights criss-crossing the rafters, brick walls covered in weird art I didn’t quite understand, but kind of liked anyway.
It was the version of herself that she kept hidden, the one behind all the snark and scowls, and for a second, it hit me that being here, in her space, was a gift.
She perched on the arm of the couch, crossing her arms again like a shield. “What do you want, Cade?”
Not an easy question to answer.
I wanted to close the distance between us and kiss her until she stopped looking at me like I was the enemy.
I wanted to peel that green robe off her body and remind her exactly how good we were together.
I wanted to wake up in her bed on New Year’s morning all over again, except this time I wouldn’t panic and leave before she woke up.
I’d stay and make her breakfast. I’d tell her that night meant something to me, even if she didn’t feel the same way.
I wanted a do-over.
“I want to talk to you.” I started to move closer, but stopped when she stiffened. “Actually talk. Not whatever that was back at the farm.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She lifted her chin slightly, a defiant glint in her eye.
“There obviously is, Stella. Maybe if I explained—”
“Explained what?” She pushed off the couch arm and paced toward the window, her arms wrapped tight around herself. “You made yourself perfectly clear on New Year’s Day.”
Hold on. What?
I’d been operating under the assumption that her cold shoulder was her way of telling me to back off.
If that wasn’t the case …
“Clear about what, exactly?” I asked carefully.
“That it was a mistake.” Her voice went flat. “That you regretted it.”
My stomach dropped.
“Stella, no. That’s not—” I yanked my beanie off my head and dragged my hand through my hair, trying to figure out how the hell we’d gotten this twisted around. “Is that what you’ve thought this whole time? That I regretted sleeping with you?”
“You left.” She turned to face me, and the hurt in her eyes nearly brought me to my knees. “You snuck out before I even woke up. What else was I supposed to think?”
Oh, shit.
I’d fucked up; just not how she thought.
“I left because I panicked,” I told her, the words scraping out of me.
“That night was—Stella, it was everything. And when I woke up next to you, I got scared. Scared you’d wake up and realize it was a mistake to sleep with your baby bro’s best friend.
” I stepped closer, watching her face for a reaction.
“So I left before you could tell me it couldn’t ever happen again.
And then when you started avoiding me, I thought …
” I let out a harsh breath. “I thought I was right. That you did regret it and wanted nothing to do with me.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
“And all this time, you thought I regretted it?” I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around how badly I’d fucked this up.
I closed the distance between us and reached for her hand, half-expecting her to pull away. When she didn’t, I held onto it like a lifeline. “Stella, honey. I wish I’d stayed. Told you how badly I want you.”
She stared at me as if I were speaking another language, and then blinked, her defiant posture faltering. “You … you want me? Still?”
“Yeah, Stella. I do.”
She looked down at our joined hands, her thumb brushing against mine almost involuntarily. “I thought …” Her voice came out small in a way I’d never heard it before. “I thought once you sobered up, you realized what a mistake it was. That you were disgusted by it. By me.”
Her words were ice in my veins. Disgusted? Jesus Christ, how could she think—
But of course she did.
I’d left without a word. Let her stew in her hurt while I nursed my own insecurities.
And I knew—God, I knew—what she’d lived through.
I was only three years younger than her.
I’d been there in those hallways at Mistletoe High, watching assholes like Brett Carver make comments about her body.
“Thunder thighs,” he’d called her, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear.
I’d wanted to put my fist through his face.
Colin had beaten me to it, earning himself a week’s suspension.
She’d held her head high that day, flipped Brett off with both hands, and walked away like his words couldn’t touch her.
But they had. I’d seen it in the way Stella’s shoulders had hunched just slightly, the way her jaw had gone tight before she’d pushed through the doors with a hollered, “Go to hell, pencil dick.”
And now she thought—fuck, she thought her body had repulsed me? By the feel of her skin under my hands. By the way she’d moved against me, and the sounds she’d made?
Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” I tugged gently on her hand until she looked up at me. “That night was the single best moment of my entire life.” I shook my head, trying to find the right words. Words that would make her understand.
“I dream about it,” I continued, the confession scraping out of me. “Even now, I still wake up remembering how soft your skin was. Your curves under my hands. The sounds you made. How you said my name when you—” I broke off, my throat tight.
Stella’s eyes widened, disbelief written across her face.
“There is nothing—nothing—about you or what we did that disgusts me. You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.
You always have been. And being with you?
It meant everything to me.” I raised our joined hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“The only thing I regret is letting you spend even one day thinking otherwise.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching mine like she was looking for the lie, the catch, the moment I’d take it all back.
But then her shoulders dropped, her eyes went glassy, and she let out a shaky breath.
Her body swayed forward, closing some of the distance between us like her body had decided to move before her brain caught up.
And when she spoke, her voice was stronger. More sure. More Stella. “I wanted it, too, Cade. Wanted you.” Color rose in her cheeks, and her eyes flicked briefly away as she confessed, “It was the single best sex of my entire life.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Jesus, Stella,” I breathed out, my forehead dropping to hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
“So what now?”
I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, I’m going to kiss you.”
I captured her mouth with mine. She made a soft, needy sound in the back of her throat, and her hands came up to fist in my jacket.
This kiss was different from the ones we’d shared on New Year’s Eve. That night had been frantic and hungry—almost dreamlike in its intensity—both of us too afraid to slow down. That if we did, we’d have to think about what we were actually doing, and we’d have to stop.