Chapter 6
JOSIE
I stay quiet during dinner, embarrassed over how I acted with Brewer. I wish I’d played it cool instead of bringing up how he ignores me.
Seriously, why did I say that?
I’m just the girl who serves him breakfast; he doesn’t owe me his attention…
but he’s sure as heck giving it to me right now.
I can feel his eyes burning holes in my face as we tuck into our lasagna.
He’s sitting directly opposite me, and our legs keep brushing under the table, the space too small to contain him.
The contact makes my heart lurch every time, and it happens so much that I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.
Savannah does most of the talking as we eat, coaxing the men into conversation, but I’m struggling to manage one-word answers.
Then Brewer’s leg brushes mine again, and I make the mistake of looking up at him.
He’s staring at me, his food forgotten on the plate in front of him, those dark eyes stormy and intense.
I hold his gaze for a beat too long before Savannah pulls me back to reality.
“So, Josie,” she says, giving me a pointed look, “met any cute guys at the diner recently?”
I almost roll my eyes. She’s not exactly subtle, and neither is Brewer’s reaction. I see him tense, his brow crumpling into a scowl at Savannah’s words, knuckles turning white around his fork.
Is he jealous?
“Easy, sugar,” Clay grunts, leaning over to press a kiss on Savannah’s forehead. “Don’t want you thinking about cute guys.”
“You know I’m not asking for me.” She melts against him with a chuckle. “I’m asking for Josie.” Her eyes meet mine again as she adds, “So, is there anyone?”
Everyone is watching me, waiting for an answer.
“I…well, there’s this one guy.”
The words are out before I can stop them, and I feel the blood rush to my face as I stare fixedly at my lasagna, suddenly very aware of the man sitting directly across from me.
Crap.
Why can’t I stop saying the wrong thing tonight?
I blame Brewer. Something about being this close to him is loosening my tongue, making me reveal way too much.
“Oooh!” Savannah makes a show of looking curious, like she doesn’t know exactly who I’m talking about. “Tell me about him.”
I chew slowly to buy time, and the silence stretches for a beat too long, the howl of wind from outside filling the air.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Why not?” Savannah presses.
“Because he doesn’t know I exist.”
A pause.
“What makes you think that?” Brewer grunts.
I wasn’t expecting him to speak, and I’m immediately flustered, caught off-guard. This conversation is spiraling out of my control, and it’s impossible to regain composure with those eyes drilling into me.
“He never even looks at me,” I stammer, wishing everyone would turn their attention back to their food. “I guess I’m not exactly the kind of woman that men like him go for.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Brewer’s gruff words force my gaze up to meet his, pulse quickening as we stare each other down across the table.
The tension in the room suddenly feels thick enough to choke on.
I can see Savannah watching us in my peripheral vision, but all my attention is on Brewer.
Everything else feels hazy and far away—only his ruggedly handsome face is in crisp focus.
“Why is it ridiculous?” I counter.
“Because you’re beautiful.” He scowls at me, thick brows drawn down. “Don’t understand how that’s even a question.”
He says it so matter-of-factly in his gruff, throaty voice that it takes me a moment to process the compliment.
When I finally do, my pulse skitters wildly.
Brewer doesn’t sound like he’s trying to flatter me; it’s like he thinks he’s stating the obvious—some irrefutable fact that I’m crazy for denying.
Beautiful.
You’re beautiful.
I open my mouth and close it again. My mind has gone completely blank, every coherent thought dissolving under the weight of those two words.
Then a loud crash makes us all jump.
Something heavy falls outside. Glass shatters.
“Goddammit.” Clay pushes back his chair. “Sounds like the porch light.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a car window?” Savannah asks.
He heads outside to look, leaving the rest of us sitting in tense silence.
The moment between me and Brewer shattered along with the glass outside, and I don’t look at him as Savannah hurries into the kitchen to grab the cherry pie for dessert.
She’s cutting us each a generous slice when Clay comes back a couple of minutes later.
“Was just the porch light,” he says. “I swept up the glass. Nasty as hell out there, though.”
Brewer clears his throat. “How you planning to get home?”
It takes me a moment to realize his question is directed at me.
“I’m driving,” I tell him.
“You’re not driving down the mountain in this.”
His words are forceful. Final. My instinct is to argue with him for telling me what to do, but then another fierce gale hits the cabin, making me wince as the wooden walls groan around us.
“You can stay here tonight,” Savannah says, eyes twinkling as she adds, “There’s not much space, though. Maybe you could go back to Brewer’s? He has plenty of space, and his cabin’s not far.”
“Sure,” Brewer says quickly. “Guest room’s free.”
“Take my truck so you don’t have to walk back,” Clay says, tossing the keys to his brother.
I don’t have time to say a word. They’ve all made up their minds, and a stubborn part of me wants to drive down the mountain out of spite. But I know they’re just looking out for me, and the thought of going back to Brewer’s cabin feels too tempting to pass up.
Even if it feels like the tension will suffocate me before we get there.
After we finish our cherry pie, Clay tells us to leave before the weather gets worse. I suspect he just wants to be alone with Savannah, but I don’t argue as I get up from the table. Brewer hangs back to talk to his brother while I join Savannah by the door.
“I can’t believe you invited him without telling me,” I hiss under my breath.
She grins at me. “You’ll thank me when you’re married.”
I’m not surprised she took things into her own hands. My best friend is a hopeless romantic, so playing matchmaker is right up her alley. But she could have prepared me a bit more first.
“You do want to go, right?” she asks quietly, her expression turning serious. “Obviously there’s plenty of room for you to stay here. I just thought you might want an excuse to go to his place.”
Despite the anxiety bubbling in my gut, I nod slowly.
“I want to go. I’m just nervous. Things got a little…tense over dinner.”
Savannah lets out a soft snort. “That’s one way to put it. Clay and I could have started salsa dancing naked on the table and I don’t think either of you would have noticed.”
Before I can respond, Brewer strides toward us, jaw set as he reaches for the door. We say our goodbyes to Clay and Savannah, then suddenly, we’re outside in the whirling blizzard, the cabin door snapping shut behind us.
I follow Brewer toward Clay’s massive truck, gritting my teeth against the frozen wind.
It’s so dark out here; everything is just inky black shapes until Brewer opens the passenger-side door and the interior light flickers on.
He turns to face me, a giant shadow backlit by the glow of the truck light.
I see his mouth move, but the wind is too loud for me to hear what he’s saying.
Then suddenly he reaches for me, hands gripping my hips firmly as he lifts me with easy strength onto the passenger seat.
My skin heats beneath my sweater, tingling at his touch even after he lets go and closes the door.
I liked that way too much.
Clay’s truck might be stupidly big, but Brewer still manages to fill the whole space as he slides into the driver’s seat. He has to push it back all the way for his legs to fit, then he turns on the engine and the truck growls to life.
We set off through the woods, snow churning in the headlights. The trees shake violently all around us, like they’re trying to tear themselves from the ground. Even in the truck, the wind is so loud that I’m almost shouting when I say, “Thanks for letting me stay at your place.”
Brewer’s deep voice cuts easily through the noise. “No way I was gonna let you drive down the mountain in this.”
There’s a protective edge to his tone—a forcefulness that makes me melt like butter. It reminds me of how he sounded this morning, standing over those tourists with fire in his eyes.
“My cabin’s not far,” he adds. “Five minutes through the woods.”
Something tightens in my chest.
Five minutes.
In five minutes, I’ll be alone with Brewer Benson, trapped by a storm with nowhere to run. No diner counter between us. No Savannah to fill the silence. Just me and the giant lumberjack who’s been driving me crazy for weeks.
I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.