Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
W illow clutched the edge of her seat. “Stop over there.” She nodded toward a turnout right before the inn’s entrance.
It was the first she’d spoken since they’d ended that heart-stopping, life-altering, mind-bending kiss.
In her defense, to say it had rattled her senses was the understatement of the century. Speech had been impossible.
And it wasn’t like Eric had been a Chatty Cathy either.
He’d grown oddly distant and silent as he’d carried her from the rock to the car, pausing to tuck his jacket around her before shutting the door.
She didn’t think it was a bad distance, though. He wasn’t scowling or anything. He was just deep in thought.
And so was she. Because…
Yeah. This was big. They’d actually kissed. And maybe that first kiss could have been brushed off as some impulsive moment—a reaction to the letters and their proximity.
But that second kiss? The one she’d initiated?
Heat flooded her cheeks. She still couldn’t quite believe she’d done that. It hadn’t been thought out. It’d been sheer instinct. All heart and soul and emotion, and…
And at some point, she was going to have to think about what exactly this meant.
She peeked over to see that Eric was studying her.
They’d probably have to talk about it. But that time was not now. She reached for the tin full of Charlie’s letters. “Are you still good with me taking these?” Before he could answer, she added, “I’ll put them in the box with the others as soon as I can get away.”
“Of course.” His lips twitched. “I trust you.”
Her heart did a backflip. “Cool.”
“Indeed.”
He sounded so stiff and proper, she knew he had to be teasing. She flashed him a smile and held up the tin. “Thank you, and…thank you.”
His brows arched, mischief making his eyes sparkle. “Two thank-yous, eh?”
“Three, actually.” She held up the tin. “Thank you for trusting me with the letters. Thank you for this morning. And thank you for taking care of me last night.”
“It was entirely my pleasure.” His dark gaze found hers and held, and she felt that heat in her cheeks turn into full-on flames.
Apparently her reaction was amusing to him, because he chuckled.
She flushed with something hot. Something that must be turning her cheeks neon red. “Okay, well…I’m just gonna, uh…I’m gonna go.”
Yup. Playing it cool. That was her.
She reached for the door handle again, already shedding his coat.
He stopped her, pulling the coat back up. “Keep it.”
“But—”
“Please. It’s cold out. And I’d rather know you’re warm.”
“I don’t need two coats, Eric.”
“You did before.” He winked at her, clearly unwilling to take no for an answer.
She blinked a few times. Huh. Well. Not only was chivalry not dead, but it seemed…she liked it.
A lot.
“Okay then.” She pulled the jacket back on, wrapping it around her thinner one. She’d need to come up with a reason for how she got it before facing her family.
Like they would ever be okay with “Eric Spencer loaned it to me. When we were sitting on a rock in the forest. Just before we kissed.”
Eeeepppp! She didn’t even want to imagine their responses.
“Okay then,” he echoed. He looked smug as could be when he tugged the collar together.
She couldn’t help herself. Leaning forward, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Bye, Eric.”
“See you soon, Willow.”
She hopped out, tin in hand, and hurriedly shut the door behind her, dashing away from the Jeep as fast as her heels could take her.
Now that she was walking back to the inn, she’d landed face-first in reality.
If anyone had seen them, there’d be questions she had no desire to answer.
She whipped around the corner and raced toward the house, tucking the tin inside the oversized jacket. She had a vague hope that maybe she could make it to her room without running into anyone, but…alas.
“Where were you?” Bailey called out from the front room.
“Is that Willow?” Brandon’s voice came from the back.
“Oh good, you’re home.” Giselle and Nate greeted her with smiles as she dashed through the kitchen.
“Thanks for covering,” she called out.
“April did most of it,” Giselle said.
But Willow was nodding and walking, trying to avoid?—
“There you are.” Bailey entered through the swinging doors just as Brandon entered from the other side.
“So, what happened?” he asked.
Yikes.
She. Was. Surrounded.
Turning, she faced her siblings with the best smile she could manage. “I told you. Margot’s friend?—”
“And you just hung out there all this time?” Bailey looked so confused, it was kind of funny.
Willow rolled her eyes and reached for a nonanswer. “I am allowed to have friends outside of this inn, aren’t I?”
Bailey frowned. “Well, yeah, but…”
Brandon flicked the collar of Eric’s jacket. “Where’d you get this?”
“A friend.” Willow backed her way out of the swinging doors. “Is that okay, Dad?”
Giselle giggled. “He is an awfully good dad, isn’t he?”
“Too good,” Willow shot back over her shoulder once she’d spun around to make her escape.
Luckily, no one followed her up to her room, but when she shut the door behind her, she fell back against it with a sigh.
She hated lying to her family. But what was she supposed to say?
They’d freak if they knew she’d gone back to Eric’s place. And that she’d spent the morning with him. Voluntarily.
She touched her lips, her stomach churning. And if they knew that she’d kissed him? That he’d kissed her?
“Ugh!” She groaned as she slid down the door, falling hard on her bottom. “This is a mess.”
And yet she didn’t regret the kiss. Not for a single second.
She pulled the tin out from her coat and set it on her lap, running a hand over the top of it. She wanted to revel in the triumph. They’d found the letters!
She wished she could sit here and read them all over again. Then she could replay her kisses with Eric, and every sweet thing he had said or done in the past twenty-four hours.
But her belly was twisting with unease.
No. With guilt.
She winced as she set the tin aside and let her head fall back against the door.
If today had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want to lie to her family. She couldn’t go on like this much longer.
Willow had to tell them.
Everything.
She had to tell them about the treasure box—without breaking Eric’s trust.
And she had to tell them about Eric. But…
“Tell them what?”
Suddenly, Willow wished that she hadn’t put off the conversation she and Eric really ought to have, because now her thoughts were swirling with questions only he could answer.
What were they going to tell their families? Were they going to tell their families? Maybe it was just a one-off moment for Eric. Maybe he had no intention of ever kissing her again.
She frowned.
Did he regret it? Did he want to end it? Was there anything to end?
She banged her head against the door several times with a soft thud.
“Willow, Willow,” she moaned. “What have you done?”