Chapter 11
Frankie
I wake up warm. The kind of warmth that wraps around you, steady and safe. And it takes me a second to realize why.
Cole’s arm is around me, heavy and solid, his hand resting just above my hip. His chest rises and falls against my back, slow and even. I can feel his heartbeat through the cotton of his shirt. His breath brushes the back of my neck, sending a glorious shiver down my spine.
For a few perfect seconds, I forget this isn’t real.
I forget that we’re not really husband and wife. That this—this feeling of being held—is temporary. That there’s an expiration date on everything happening in this cabin.
He shifts in his sleep, pulling me a little closer, and my heart betrays me by aching.
He may be my husband on paper, but that’s all he’ll ever be.
This situation has an end point, a finish line I can already see, and when it comes, he’ll stay on this mountain and I’ll go back to my life. Whatever that even means anymore.
I’ve tried to tell myself that what I’ve been feeling isn’t real. That it’s just the magic of Christmas and close quarters and a man who looks at me like I’m something worth keeping.
But lying here, wrapped in his arms, I know the truth.
The one thing I want for Christmas is the one thing I can’t have.
Cole Whitaker.
Carefully, I slide out from under his arm, holding my breath as I ease off the bed.
He mumbles something in his sleep but doesn’t wake.
I stand there for a moment, watching him—the way the morning light softens the lines of his face, even the faint furrow in his brow.
It takes a moment but I force myself to move.
I get dressed quickly, needing space, needing air, and head downstairs.
The smell of coffee greets me, rich and comforting. For a second, I think Cole’s already been up, but when I round the corner, I know it won't be him sitting at the table.
Ryan’s sitting in Cole’s seat, a steaming mug in one hand, staring at the framed photo of his grandparents propped in front of him. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between nostalgia and something darker.
“Morning,” I say, trying for polite. “You’re up early.”
He doesn’t look at me. “Didn’t sleep much.”
I nod awkwardly, moving toward the counter to grab a mug. “Are you and Marnie staying the day or heading back early to beat the traffic?”
“Cut the bullshit.”
I turn to look at him, not needing to pretend I’m shocked. “Excuse me?”
Ryan stares at the picture sitting in front of him for a long moment before he finally looks up at me, eyes sharp. “I’ll get straight to the point.”
My stomach tightens. “Okay—”
“I’ll pay you double whatever he’s paying you.”
The mug in my hand slips a little before I catch it, a bit of coffee sloshing over the edge of the rim. “Ouch. Excuse me?”
He leans back in his chair, expression smooth but tight around the edges. “You heard me. Whatever arrangement you’ve got going with my cousin, I’ll top it. Just tell me what he’s offering.”
I blink, stunned by the bluntness. “He’s not—he’s not paying me anything.”
Ryan’s mouth twists into a humorless smile. “Of course he’s not.” He chuckles, low and mean. “Figures. He tricks you into marrying him to get the inheritance, and you don’t even see a dime. That’s just like him—self-righteous, stubborn, pretending he’s better than the rest of us.”
My pulse picks up, the need to protect Cole flaring up inside me, but I keep my voice steady. “You’re wrong.”
He stands, pulling something from his coat pocket—a checkbook. “I’ll write you one right now. A hundred thousand dollars to walk out that door today and end this ridiculous charade. That’s more than fair, wouldn’t you say?”
Before I can even form a response, the sound of the bedroom door upstairs creaks open. Footsteps. Then the click of the door closing again.
A moment later, Cole appears at the top of the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair’s a mess, his shirt pulled tight against his thick chest. He looks good in that infuriating, rugged, too real to be mine kind of way.
He doesn’t notice the tension at first—just walks over to the woodstove, crouching to add a few logs. “Morning,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep.
Ryan steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “He only married you to meet the clause in our grandfather’s will,” he whispers. “You think he’d look twice at you otherwise? He’s using you.”
I want to pour my hot coffee over his head, but manage to keep a level head as a plan forms in my mind.
I widen my eyes, pretending to be shocked at what he’s just said. “What?”
“Ask him yourself.” Ryan shrugs. “I can show you the will if you want proof.”
Before I can reply, Marnie shuffles down the stairs, wearing oversized sunglasses and clutching her head like it might fall off.
“God,” she groans. “Why is it so bright in here?”
The tension snaps for just a second, but not enough. Ryan’s still watching me, waiting. I look from him to Cole, who’s standing now, glancing between us with a hint of suspicion.
My heart pounds. I need to end this before Ryan gets too smug.
“Cole,” I say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Can I talk to you outside?”
His brows knit. “Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ryan’s smirk—the satisfied, snake-like grin he hides behind his coffee mug.
He thinks he’s winning.
Not for long.