Chapter 5
PIPER
When I wake up alone, the panic hits before my brain catches up to the sounds coming from outside.
Harlon’s boots on wood. The scrape of a shovel against the porch.
He's out there doing what needs to be done. He’s being responsible. Checking conditions. I mean, he is a park ranger…doing ranger things.
Except my stomach is twisted in knots, and I'm clutching the quilt like it might protect me from whatever awkwardness is waiting for us when he comes back in.
The door swings open, bringing a gust of cold air and Harlon, snow dusting his hair and shoulders.
"Morning," he says quietly, crossing to the kitchenette. "Made coffee."
He walks over with two steaming mugs in his hands, and his whole expression softens into something altogether unusual for him.
"Thank you." I sit up, pulling the quilt higher as he hands me a mug, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a spark up my arm.
"Storm's passed. Roads should be clear enough to get to town."
Town. Civilization. The real world where we're not just two people stranded in a cabin, but Harlon Giles and his brother's ex-girlfriend who did some absolutely sinful things last night.
"Oh." I take a sip of coffee. It tastes like burnt dirt again, but it's better than the cold.
He sits on the edge of the bed, looking like he wants to say something.
"We should probably get dressed," I offer quickly, because I'm not ready for whatever he's about to say. For the ‘this was a mistake’ speech or the ‘we’re pretending this never happened, right?’ conversation. "If the roads are okay."
Something moves across his face—whether it be disappointment or relief, I don’t know. Then he nods. "Hope Peak has a couple of places to eat, and we could charge our phones. Let Sadie know we're alive."
Dammit…I forgot about Sadie. Who's expecting both of us for Christmas and has no idea I just spent the night having the best sex of my life with her other brother.
Ugh…
We manage to get dressed without me staring too much at Harlon’s chiseled body.
And then we walk out to his truck.
It’s a behemoth—one of those lifted pickups that requires an actual step to climb into. I struggle with it, my shorter legs not cooperating, and suddenly his hands are on my hips, boosting me up like nothing.
"Thanks," I say, trying to ignore the way my body tingles where he touched me.
He just grunts and closes the door, moving around to the driver's side. The engine rumbles to life, and we're off, as he navigates the snow-packed roads with a competence that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.
But hell, it really is.
I sneak glances at him as he drives—the way his large hands grip the wheel, almost relaxed, with a slight furrow between his brows like he’s reading the terrain.
Jayce used to white-knuckle the steering wheel in bad weather, tense and irritable. Harlon just...handles it. Working with the snow instead of fighting against it.
“What?” he asks without looking at me.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
Man, I’m bad at this. “I’m admiring your driving skills,” I say primly. “Very safety-conscious. Gold star.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
"It's hot. All the ladies love a man who signals his lane changes, steers into skids, and brakes for wildlife on the road."
That gets an actual laugh out of him—raspy and surprised—making my heart beat a little faster.
Down the road, we hit the busy part of town.
Hope Peak is like something out of a Christmas movie.
The main street is lined with old-fashioned lampposts wrapped in evergreen garlands and red ribbons. Lights twinkle from every storefront window. There's decorations everywhere, and people bundled in winter coats doing last-minute shopping with that tell-tale Christmas Eve urgency.
"This is adorable," I breathe, pressing my face to the window. "It's like Stars Hollow, but with more mountains."
"Stars Hollow?"
"Gilmore Girls? The TV show?" I look at him. "Please tell me you've seen Gilmore Girls."
"I'm a park ranger who lives alone in Wyoming, Piper. What do you think?"
I shake my head. "I think you're missing out on quality television."
He chuckles as I spot the Skyline Bar and Grill—a charming building with frost on the windows. "How about we get some food there. We can charge our phones…and figure out what we're telling Sadie."
His jaw ticks. "You don’t want to tell her the truth?"
"Which is what, exactly? 'Hey Sadie, got snowed in with Harlon, had the most amazing sex, and everything's fine now. Be there soon?'"
“Okay, maybe without the sex part," he mutters, parking the truck.
"Whatever." I shrug.
He kills the engine and turns to face me. "She's got a sixth sense about this stuff."
I grab my dead phone. "Let's just...see how it goes. Feel her out."
"Feel her out," he repeats flatly.
"I'm very good at improvisation."
"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better." He gets out and comes around to my door to help me down of the truck. I take his big hand as I descend the step onto the ground, ignoring how much I miss it when he takes it away.
Then he opens the door to the restaurant, guiding me in with his palm on my lower back.
Why is that so damn sexy?
The Skyline is warm and smells like fries, grilled meat, and everything good in the world. A handful of patrons occupy the booths, and a cheerful waitress with a Santa hat points us toward an open table near the back.
We slide into the booth and find an outlet to plug our phones into. The menus are laminated and feature all kinds of comfort food and delicious-looking fare.
"This place is nice," I say, scanning the options. "I want to eat everything."
Harlon's watching me with that soft expression again, and when I look up, he quickly studies something fascinating on his menu. "Pot roast sounds incredible right now."
Our phones both buzz to life simultaneously from the wall.
I grab mine, seeing a flood of texts from Sadie.
Are you alive? The roads are terrible!
Please tell me you found shelter
PIPER ANSWER ME
Harlon isn't answering either which is making me nervous
I glance at Harlon, who's staring at his own phone.
"She thinks we’re both dead," I say.
"Yeah." He types something and hits send. "I told her we're both fine. That we’re in Hope Peak and had to wait out the storm in a cabin last night."
My phone vibrates.
BOTH of you???
You were in the same cabin TOGETHER?
Oh this is EXCELLENT
What happened??
No—don’t tell me. Just take your time. Get here safe. Really. Take all the time you need.
I look up at Harlon. "She knows."
"She suspects."
"Those are not suspicion emojis. Those are 'I'm definitely into this and I'm smug about it' emojis."
He sighs, rubbing his face. "Sadie's been wanting this for a while."
"What?" The word comes out too loud, and I lower my voice. "She has not. What are you talking about?”
He meets my eyes. "She told me once that she thought we'd be better together than you and Jayce."
My heart goes berserk. "When?"
"About a year ago. I told her she was insane, and to drop it." His voice goes quiet. "That even if…” he stops himself. “That I wouldn’t do that to my own brother.”
The waitress appears before we can dwell on that, and we both order quickly—pot roast for him, shepherd's pie for me. The moment she's gone, the tension settles back over us like a heavy blanket.
“Maybe we should talk about something else, then,” I say, rubbing my arms.
He nods. “What’s new on the app front? Last I heard, Sadie mentioned a stargazing app you built.”
I smile, pleased that he actually remembered something his sister told him I made.
“Yes, it identifies constellations, and also factors in your local light pollution levels, weather conditions, and even sends you notifications like ‘Tonight is the best night this month to see the Milky Way from your location’ or ‘Saturn's rings will be most visible in 2 hours.’ It lets users set preferences for what they want to see (planets, meteor showers, satellites, ISS passes, etc.) and creates a personalized viewing calendar.”
“Wow, that’s impressive…and pretty damn cool,” he says, tapping the table absentmindedly.
I fight the heat spreading over my cheeks.
Then I tell him about the offer from TechFlow Solutions, and the salary and stock options…the meetings and the brand guidelines and how the thought of it makes me ill even though it's exactly what I'm supposed to want.
"But you don't want it," he says.
"It's stable. Respectable. My parents would finally take me seriously." I steal a fry from the basket the waitress drops off.
"That's not what I said."
I look at him and see honest concern in those gray eyes. Not judgment. Or that dismissive coldness I'm used to. It’s like he actually cares what I think, and what I want for my future.
"No," I admit. "I don't want it. I want to keep making weird apps that solve problems nobody knew they had. I want to run with an idea and build it without asking permission or fitting it into someone else's little box.”
"So don't take the job."
"That's not how adulting works, Harlon."
“You’re going to tell a forty-one year old man that?” He leans back, arms crossed. "You're good at what you do. You're making money—maybe not Fortune 500 money, but enough to make you happy, right? Why would you give that up for a job that makes you miserable?"
"Because that's what successful people do?"
“Uh-uh, that's what miserable people do." He says it with such conviction that I blink. "Life's too short to spend it doing something that doesn’t fulfill you."
Our food arrives, and I take a bite of shepherd's pie to avoid responding. It's delicious—rich and savory with a crisp mashed potato crust.
"And what’s new in the Grand Tetons?” I ask, shifting the conversation over to him.
He smirks. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Why you love it. What you actually do all day. Whether you've seen more bears since your run-in at nineteen.”
He laughs—that low, rumbling sound I'm rapidly becoming addicted to—and starts talking about elk migration and avalanche prevention and a wolf pack that recently denned near the south entrance. He’s animated as he talks, eyes lighting up in a way I've never seen before.
Jayce used to talk at me about his work—monologues about tactical procedures and chain of command. Harlon talks with me, pausing to see if I'm following, asking my opinions.
He steals a forkful of my shepherd's pie, and I retaliate by taking some of his pot roast.
When he gets gravy on his chin, I reach across with my napkin and wipe it away without thinking.
My thumb lingers at the corner of his mouth for just a second.
I’m doomed.
After lunch, Harlon insists we head to the general store to properly restock the cabin.
"We used their supplies. We replace them," he says as we walk through the snow. "It’s common courtesy."
And god help me, that damn sense of responsibility is horribly attractive.
The general store is crowded, and we split up to gather supplies more efficiently. I find instant coffee, canned soup, matches. When I circle back to find Harlon, he's talking to an elderly woman about firewood, his expression patient and kind as she tells him about her grandson in the Army.
Jayce would've been checking his phone, eager to move on. But Harlon…he just listens respectfully.
I grab a small gift while he's distracted—a hand-carved wooden bear ornament. It's silly, but I want him to have something from me. Something that marks this strange and wonderful interlude before it’s over.
"All set?" he asks when I find him again, our basket full.
"Yep."
He pays and I slip over to another register to buy the gift.
We meet outside, and look up.
"Oh no," I breathe.
The snow is falling heavily now, thick flakes that land on our heads and shoulders. The friendly town that looked like a Christmas card an hour ago is starting to be overtaken by blankets of white, the sky darkening.
Harlon pulls out his phone. “Another front moved in.”
“Do we have to time to get back and head out?”
“Roads are already getting bad. They're closing the pass to Deepwood Mountain.” He looks at me, and I see the decision forming. “We need to stay here tonight. Trying to make it through in this would be stupid.”
"Stay here in town?"
"Yeah." His voice is careful, neutral. "I saw a place down the way, the Snowcap Inn. Hopefully, we can get rooms, and head to Deepwood in the morning."
He said ‘rooms’—plural.
The whole street is going dark…businesses closing early for Christmas Eve, locals hurrying home to be with family. The only lights still glowing are from the Snowcap Inn, its windows warm and inviting against the white onslaught.
We drive through the heavy snow, not talking, both of us carrying the weight of what we're not saying.
The inn is small and charming, with a large stone fireplace in the lobby, wreaths on every door. At the check-in desk, Harlon taps the bell. A man with gray eyes appears from a back room. His scowl could rival Harlon’s.
"Last-minute travelers?" he grunts.
Harlon glances at me. "We need—"
"One room," I hear myself say.
His eyes snap to mine, searching.
"One room," I repeat, more firmly this time. "If you have one available."
The man nods. "We do. King bed, mountain view, private bath."
"Perfect," I say before I can second-guess myself.
Harlon pulls out his wallet, but I hand over my credit card before he can. "My turn to contribute."
He looks like he wants to argue, but the man is already processing the payment. The guy hands me a key and points toward the stairs.
"Second floor, end of the hall. Enjoy your stay. And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," we echo automatically.
We climb the stairs, Harlon carrying the bulk of our things. The hallway is dim and quiet, most guests probably already tucked in for the night. I unlock the door with hands that are shaking slightly.
The room is lovely, all wood and soft lighting with a huge bed piled with quilts and pillows, and a window showing nothing but white.
It’s romantic.
Intimate.
I wanted another night with Harlon instead of separate rooms and plausible deniability. I want to extend this bubble for one more night before tomorrow—Christmas Day—when we'll have to face what we've done…and what comes next.
Harlon closes the door behind us, and we stand there in the quiet room, snow falling outside.
"Piper," he says softly.
I turn to face him. "Tomorrow's Christmas," I whisper. “And everything changes…"
He crosses the room in two strides and gathers me into his arms. "I know."
"So tonight—"
"Tonight we have this," he finishes, and then he's kissing me like I'm air and he's drowning, and I'm kissing him back like maybe I am, too.
Tomorrow can wait.
Tonight, we're choosing each other.
Again.