9. Eva
Nine
Eva
I step into the lounge later that evening, drawn by the crackle of the fireplace and the smell of warm apple cider. Dinner was fun, but I need some air. Or space to untangle my thoughts.
Eli Jackson has officially taken up residence in my head, and I have no idea how to evict him.
The sledding earlier was so much fun. And the way he looked at me after, his gaze heavy and warm, like he was debating what to do with me? I’m not built for that kind of attention. My life is friends, family, deadlines, book signings, and the occasional date that ends with me wondering why I bothered. Guys like Eli—guys who make you feel like you’re the only thing in their universe—don’t happen for me.
Or so I thought.
The lounge is mostly empty, except for a couple tucked into a corner booth and—oh God.
Him.
Eli is stretched out in one of the massive leather armchairs, his long legs sprawled out like he owns the place. A drink in his hand, as the firelight dances across his chiseled features, making him look like some kind of hot titan sent to test my resolve. He glances up as I walk in, and the moment our eyes meet, my stomach flips.
“Carter.” His voice is low and rough, just the sound of it sending a shiver down my spine.
“Jackson.” I manage to keep my tone even, although though my pulse is doing the Harlem Shake.
“Come sit.” He nods to the chair across from him, his gaze never leaving mine.
I hesitate, but the thought of retreating feels more dangerous than facing him. I take the seat, smoothing my sweater as I settle in.
“You look cozy,” he says, his lips twitching into that infuriating almost-smile.
I glance down at my oversized sweater and leggings, the perfect outfit for someone planning to hide from the world. “It’s called surviving winter, hockey boy.”
The smirk deepens, and the heat in his eyes makes me wish I’d worn something less… comfortable.
* * *
The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. He sips his drink, his gaze lingering on me.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Eli finally says.
“I thought you’d appreciate that,” I shoot back.
His chuckle is low and sexy, and it does things to me I’m not ready to admit. “You think you’ve got me figured out?”
“Not even close,” I admit, leaning back in my chair. “But you’re not exactly an open book.”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think I’ve hit a nerve. But then he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “What do you want to know, Eva?”
The way he says my name—low and soft, like he’s savoring it—sends a flush of heat through me.
“Why are you here?” I blurt out, the question escaping before I can stop it.
His thick, dark brows lift slightly. “Here in the lounge?”
“Here, at this lodge, with all these people.” I gesture vaguely, trying to cover my awkwardness. “You don’t exactly strike me as the holiday retreat type.”
For a moment, Eli doesn’t answer, his gaze remaining steady and unreadable. Then he leans back, his expression softening just enough to catch me off guard.
“Sometimes, even I need a break,” he says. “And my teammates convinced me it wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a weekend.”
“That doesn’t explain why you keep staring at me like…. like that”
The words are out before I can think them through, and the flicker of surprise in his eyes is almost worth the embarrassment.
“You want the truth?” he asks, his voice dropping even lower than his normal deep baritone.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
Eli takes a long sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving mine. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but firm, like he’s revealing something he never planned to.
“I saw you, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.”
My breath catches, and for a moment, I forget how to function.
“You’re messing with me,” I say weakly, though his tone leaves no room for doubt.
“I don’t mess around, Eva,” he replies, leaning forward again. “Not when it comes to what’s important.”
And the way he looks at me—like I’m the only important thing in the world—makes it painfully clear he means me.
* * *
The weight of his words sits between us, heavy, undeniable. I’m not sure what to say, but my body betrays me, leaning slightly forward.
Before either of us can move, the door to the lounge swings open, and a group of players strolls in, laughing and jostling each other. The moment breaks, and I sit back quickly, my cheeks flaming.
Eli’s jaw tightens, his gaze flicking to the intruders before returning to me. “We’re not done,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise.
I barely manage a nod before he stands, his towering frame cutting an imposing figure as he strides past the group, leaving me alone with my racing heart.
* * *
Back in my room, I pace the floor, the memory of Eli’s words replaying in my head.
“Nothing else mattered.”
It’s ridiculous. I barely know him. But the way he looks at me—like he’s already decided I belong to him—makes it impossible to think straight.
I flop on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Get it together, Ev,” I mutter. “You’ve got a manuscript to finish. You do not have time for grumpy hockey players with intense eyes and big biceps.”
But even as I say it, I know it’s a losing battle.