Chapter 11 Janie
ELEVEN
Janie
We drive back to Santaville in awkward silence, Christmas carols filling the space where conversation should be. Every few seconds, I catch myself sneaking glances at Rourke, unable to forget the way his hand felt cupping my face and the taste of his warm lips.
What was I thinking, kissing him like that? Opening a door I've kept locked since Nick left? He made me feel things I swore I'd never let myself feel again.
As Rourke concentrates on the road, I can feel the weight of what we're not talking about.
“You okay?” he finally asks without taking his eyes off the road. “I mean…with the weather?”
I stare out the window. “I will be as soon as I’m out of this car.”
Truthfully, I’m not okay. And it’s not just the snowstorm—it’s the realization that everything between us just shifted, and that, mostly, it’s my fault. I’m the one who invited him today. The one trying to convince him to catch some Christmas feels.
Instead, I’m the one who caught feelings—for him.
And then I kissed him.
How am I going to get through weeks of practice without thinking of that moment?
It’s like someone is punishing me for trying to be nice at Christmas after I tried to reform the world’s biggest grinch.
When we finally reach town, Rourke pulls into the parking lot of a small diner with a cheerful neon sign.
“Let’s figure out our options over dinner.”
Inside, we slide into a vinyl booth by the window, both of us avoiding any mention of the festival.
Our waitress, a woman in her sixties with heavy lines on her face, appears with a carafe of coffee. “Y’all trying to get back home tonight?”
“That was the plan,” I say. “Know any routes other than the highway?”
She laughs, like she finds my question amusing. “Not happening, honey. Jimmy’s got the only plow in town, and even he’s not risking those roads tonight. Everything’s completely shut down until morning. You folks need to find somewhere to hunker down for the night.”
I glance at Rourke, who doesn’t look happy about this either. We’re stuck. Together. After that kiss that I can’t stop thinking about.
“But I have to get home,” I say. “I have a daughter who needs me. I’ve never been gone overnight from her before.”
“Then you better call your babysitter and ask for a favor. It’ll be harder on you than her,” the waitress says, like she knows from experience.
“Look on the bright side: you picked a good night to get stranded. Whole town is decorated for Christmas and there’s a snowstorm…
” Her lips curve into a wicked smile. “In nine months, there’s gonna be a lot of babies. ”
Rourke nearly chokes on his coffee, before he coughs and pounds his chest, trying to find his breath.
“We just need a place to stay until the highway opens up,” I explain.
“Well, Santaville Cabin Rentals might have openings.” She nods in some vague direction up the road. “Real cozy cabins, with fireplaces and kitchenettes. But I’d call now—they might already be full.”
“Thanks,” I say feeling that sudden zip of nervousness as she walks away.
I glance at Rourke, keeping my face all-business. “You want to make the reservation for two cabins?”
“Sure,” he says. “But what if they don’t…”
“Somebody has to have two rooms,” I say firmly. “I don’t care what we have to pay.”
Rourke makes the call while I text Scarlett to explain the situation with the roads.
She responds immediately that she’s happy to stay overnight and Aria is sleeping like an angel. Our waitress was right—being gone overnight is harder for me than my daughter. But one much bigger problem is still sitting across from me, muting his phone with a sigh.
“They’ve got one cabin left. A small one. The woman said if we don’t take it now, she can’t hold it.”
I stare at him, my heart doing flips in my chest. “When you say one cabin…” I frown, studying his face. “You mean with two rooms, right?”
He holds up a finger, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “What? Sorry, I couldn’t—” His eyes widen slightly at whatever the woman is saying.
“Rourke,” I whisper urgently, leaning toward him. “Ask about the rooms. How many bedrooms are there?”
But he’s not looking at me anymore. He’s gone completely still, and I can hear the muffled voice of the woman on the other end explaining something.
“Wait,” he blurts. “Uh, no…we want it. Yes, definitely we’ll take it. Don’t give it away.”
“Rourke!” I hiss, but he waves me off, nodding at whatever she’s telling him.
“Right…we’ll be there in ten minutes. Thank you.”
He hangs up and just sits there for a second, staring at his phone.
“Well?” I ask. “Two bedrooms, right? Please tell me she clarified that.”
His face flicks to mine, and there’s a look on his face that makes my stomach turn over—and it’s not the diner coffee.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask specifically about bedrooms,” he says slowly. “Someone else walked into the rental office while I was on the phone. She said if I didn’t take it right then, she was giving it to them.”
“So you just, what, agreed? Knowing nothing about it?”
“It’s shelter, Janie.” But I get the feeling he’s hiding key information. “In a freak snowstorm. It’s our only option.”
I stare at him, panic clawing at my chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He drags a hand through his hair. “She did mention it was their smallest cabin.”
“How small?”
“Studio style.”
“Studio,” I repeat slowly. “As in…one room?”
He nods.
“And only…” I swallow. “One bed?”
He pauses, then says quietly, “I don’t know.”
“Great,” I mutter, staring outside. My perfect plan to win this bet and keep things fun has officially become my worst nightmare.
“I’m going to be stuck in a one-room cabin,” I say, the realization sinking like lead in my chest. “With you.”
This is bad. Especially after that kiss. I can still feel it burning on my lips.
“Janie—”
“Don’t,” I snap, holding up my hand, suddenly feeling like I’m the grinch now. “We just hope that I’m wrong.”
Knowing my luck today, it’ll be the newlywed cabin.