Chapter 8 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
“Okay. Breathe.” I brace both palms against the sink, staring myself down in the bathroom mirror. “It’s just an overnight trip. Alone. With the man you can’t keep your damn hands off. No big deal, right?”
My cheeks are flushed, my pulse a drumbeat in my throat. I splash cold water over my face, but it only makes the skin tighter, hotter.
Professional. I’m supposed to be professional.
But my body doesn’t care about boundaries, it only cares about what his mouth feels like on mine, how his hands grip like he owns me.
A knock rattles the door. “You almost ready? We leave in a few,” Jon calls, voice dark and smooth, carrying through the wood like it belongs inside me.
I grip the porcelain until my knuckles ache. Get it together, Lizzy. I whisper, “Strong. Whatever happens—just be strong.” But when I unlock the door, there he is, leaning against the frame, smile curling slow and dangerous. My stomach drops straight through me.
“Ready?” he asks, like he already knows the answer.
I nod too fast, snatch up my bag and coat, and trail after him. Sherry’s glare cuts across the office, sharp as broken glass, but I barely feel it. How could I, when Jon’s stride is long and confident and I have to rush to keep up?
Outside, snowflakes cling to my lashes. He opens the passenger door, that old-world gentleman act that shouldn’t make my thighs squeeze together, but it does.
I slide into the leather seat, shivering, and he takes the wheel. His big hands rub together, warming themselves before gripping the steering column, veins taut under his skin. Heat trickles low in my belly as the car purrs to life.
The cabin fills with warmth as we pull onto the road. My phone buzzes in my bag—I thumb a quick text to Dani, alive, heading to Rochester, will explain later,—then shove it away.
Six hours. Just him and me. Trapped in this little bubble with no one else to cut the tension.
I try to break it first. “So… what’s the plan once we get there?”
His eyes stay on the road, but the corner of his mouth tilts. “Chase booked us two rooms at a hotel. We’ll check in, grab dinner, and tomorrow we sit down with Goldman. Simple.”
Two rooms. My body hears it as one.
I press my thighs tighter together and force a smile.
Simple, he says— and I can’t blame him because I was the one who asked for the distance.
Nothing about this is going to be simple.
“Sounds like a nice vacation,” I say jokingly.
“The only thing missing is the warm weather and sand beneath my feet.”
My attempt to lighten the mood seems to work as we spend the next few hours talking about anything and everything. It feels nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around clients or attraction.
We are about an hour outside of Rochester when the snow starts to fall more frequently, and it becomes harder to see in front of us. My worry is that we will get snowed in and stuck in Rochester far longer than needed, or worse.
Every few feet, he hits a small slick area of the road, and my heart jumps every time. “Don’t you think we should pull over or turn around? The weather is getting pretty scary.”
I look at Jon, who is focusing on the road, and his mouth opens to speak, but before he can, a large truck traveling in the other lane splashes slush onto our windshield, causing Jon to brake and begin to slide out of control.
I close my eyes tightly and grip the seat belt that is strapped over me, praying that we make it out of this alive.
There’s a loud thud, and then everything stops moving. Although I’m scared, I peek through half-closed eyelids and see that we have slid right into a ditch.
“Oh, man. That was scary. Are you alright?” Jon asks, turning toward me.
I pat my hands down my body. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?” He nods and opens his car door, stepping out into the snow. I follow, not wanting to be in this death trap for another second. Looking around, we are surrounded by trees, with no other civilization in sight.
“Great,” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “And my phone is dead.” Quickly leaning into the car again, I fetch mine and hand it to him.
“Here, use mine. I barely touched it on the drive here.” Luckily, there are two bars of service, enough to search for a towing company.
He calls and explains to them where we are, I cross the street and look down over the ledge. If he weren’t so quick on thinking, we could be down there, or worse.
“Okay, great. See you in a few,” Jon says and walks over to me, handing me back my phone. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you,” I respond with a smile. “That could’ve been far worse than it was.”
He throws his arms around me, pulling me in for a warm hug. As if shielding me from the harsh weather. Whatever the case may be, I need it.
A few short minutes later, a large tow truck pulls up with flashing yellow lights on the roof.
A tall man in a blue jumpsuit steps out and looks the car over.
“Not too bad. I can get you out. But the best I can do is drop you off somewhere for the night, and I should have the car as good as new by morning.”
“Are there any hotels around?” Jon asks, and the man shakes his head.
“No. A few of them are rental homes, though, if you want to look that up.” As the man walks around the truck and grabs the cable that hooks to a car, I pull my phone back out of my pocket and pull up the search engine.
Luckily for us, there’s still one open for the night. It’s an Airbnb just up the road a few miles. A cute, cabinlike A-frame house. It’s not a hotel like he’s used to, but it’ll have to do for one night.
The only issue now is that there aren’t two separate rooms. It’s a one-bedroom house, so there’s no escaping my thoughts … No escape from the man that I want to pounce on. What could possibly go wrong?
“Alright, you’re all hooked up. Know where you’re going?” the man asks and I nod, showing him the picture. “Oh, I know that place. It’s right down the road from the shop. I’ll drop you off and then you can walk down in the morning.”
While not ideal, it has to do for the time being. Besides, I’m happy that we made it out of the wreck without a single scratch.
The drive is silent as I sit in the middle of both men on the bucket seat. I’m practically sitting in Jon’s lap, something neither of us expected, but it’s not the first time. My cheeks feel hot, and I barely breathe the entire time.
I’m not sure if it’s intentional, but his hand brushes against my leg a few times. I try my best not to react, but inside, I wish he would touch my entire body with those strong hands.
“Alright, this is it,” the driver remarks as he pulls into the gravel driveway. “Looks quiet enough.” He laughs, nudging Jon as if they have some secret bro code.
Jon fakes a smile and jumps out, helping me down before thanking him for all his help. The man waves and pulls onto the main road once more, leaving just Jon and me alone in the snowstorm, staring at the cottage.
“Well, no use catching a cold,” Jon says and starts walking up the porch steps. I follow and grab the spare key in a hidden compartment under the line of rocks that would normally border a summer garden and unlock the door.
Once inside, the smell of warming cinnamon air freshener fills my nose. It’s all one big room, other than a bedroom and bathroom set off to the side, and a large, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the mountains and canyon.
“Wow,” I remark. “This is absolutely breathtaking.”
“I have to agree,” Jon replies, but when I look at him, he’s not looking outside like I am. He’s staring directly at me. My heart leaps in my chest as I smile and turn my attention quickly back to the view.
I’ve never been good with compliments.
He clears his throat once I smile and turns toward the fireplace. “I’ll get this started so we can be warm. Why don’t you look up somewhere that delivers so we can eat? I’m starving.” It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going while I order takeout Italian.
While we wait for the food, I wander around the cabin. I can’t help but appreciate the stunning woodwork they used for the interior. Even down to the hand-carved bed frame that’s been stained dark and top-coated.
As I walk back into the main room, Jon still kneels in front of the fire with a fire poker, moving around the crackling logs.
“Thank you,” I say to him as I sit on the edge of the couch behind him. “It’s already toasty in here.”
“Not a problem. My father forced me into the Boy Scouts until I was too old to go anymore. If you ever need a tent put up or a knot tied, I’m your guy.” His sarcasm has me laughing loudly, covering my mouth as I normally do.
“You know,” he continues. “You shouldn’t cover your mouth when you laugh. You have a stunning smile.”
My body warms up, but it has nothing to do with the fire. He stands, still facing me, and slowly walks toward me. This is it … I’m not strong enough to turn him down.
Maybe I shouldn’t. I mean, how awful is it to do something that makes me happy for once?
As he reaches me, I stand to join him and his hand brushes mine. The silence between us is deafening as I analyze a million things in my own head. His fingers hook mine as he leans in to kiss me.
Just before his fingers reach me — and I know I wouldn’t stop him — a sharp knock breaks the spell. He exhales, drops my hand like it’s a hot coal, and crosses the room. I watch his shoulders move under his shirt as he answers the door, tips the delivery guy, and shuts the storm back out.
“Dinner’s here,” he says, voice rougher than it should be.
Jon spreads the food out while I hover uselessly, still warm from the almost-touch. Then he starts dragging blankets, sheets, and pillows from everywhere, piling them in front of the fireplace.
By the time he’s done, it’s not a fort, it’s a nest — a low, sprawling bed of fabric that smells faintly of detergent and cedar. He drops onto it, pats the spot next to him, and the gesture makes my stomach flip.
I sink down opposite him, cross-legged, taking the warm carton he hands me. Garlic and tomato and firewood fill the room. Outside, the snow is a silent curtain; inside, it’s just us and the crackle of logs.
We talk between bites of lasagna, trading stories about the drive up, laughing about the tow-truck driver and his “you two look married already” comment. Each time Jon laughs, his eyes crease at the corners and he tilts closer, like the fire is pulling him — or me — inward.
It’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. No phones. No interruptions. No one to watch or whisper. Just him and me, and a hearth big enough for secrets.
I set the empty container aside, fingers trembling. Stop fighting, my mind whispers. You’ve been fighting this since the moment you saw him.
I glance up. He’s leaning back on one elbow, shirt collar open, firelight playing off the line of his throat. The heat between us feels thicker than the air.
“How do you think tomorrow’s meeting will go?” I manage, mostly to keep my hands from wandering. I gather the leftovers into neat stacks on the low table, busywork to stop myself from crossing the blanket.
Jon shakes his head slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “No. Not tonight. No spreadsheets, no numbers. Just this.” His voice drops a register. “Just us.”
And that’s all it takes.
I move before my brain can veto it. My hand slides behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and I pull him to me.
Our mouths crash together, hot and wet and hungry, the kiss rough enough to draw a groan from him. Firelight spills over our faces as his hand finds my hip and holds me there, not gentle but sure.
I’m the one who told him to be professional. I’m the one who swore I’d keep my distance. But sitting in this cabin, wrapped in heat and snow and his scent, I don’t want distance anymore.