Chapter 5
Chapter Five
What the hell just happened?
Ellie drifted through the rest of the evening in a daze: chatting to the other guests, dealing with the day’s receipts, shutting down the computer and heading upstairs to their family apartment.
But all the while, her mind was far away—thirty feet, to be exact, out on that front porch with Dash Everett’s lips pressed hungrily against hers.
Lord, that guy could kiss.
She couldn’t believe it—that he made a move out of nowhere like that, and worse, how she had just surrendered to the moment without a single ounce of sense in her brain.
One minute it seemed like he couldn’t wait to get away from her, and the next, he was pulling her closer for the most epic kiss she’d had in years. Since…
Since Ethan.
Ellie stopped, reality crashing through the heated memory like an ice-cold dip in the pond.
She’d been there before. She knew how this ended.
He would go back across the country once his trip was up, and she would be left there all over again.
She had her “no tourist” rule for a reason, and that reason didn’t disappear just because of the six foot of dashing Irish hotness right across the lake.
Even if he was smart, and handsome, and funny.
Even if he did kiss like a man with something to prove.
He was off limits. End of story.
And she was going to bed alone.
Five hours later, Ellie was tucked in bed staring at the ceiling, still imagining Dash’s lips on hers.
It had been snowing hard all night, and the muffled sound of the wind usually made her sleep like a baby, but tonight, she was restless: tossing and turning, too amped up to do anything except replay the moment—and then take it further in her mind.
Inviting him in, asking him upstairs, having him join her in the cozy guest room…
In her king-sized bed.
Down, girl. Bad Ellie.
She wondered how Dash was faring, out in that cabin with just that tiny stove for warmth.
Guilt crept in the back of her mind. Sure, he said he could handle the snow, but she was guessing he never expected it to come down like this: a whirlwind of pale flakes spinning from the black sky.
Ellie opened the window for some fresh air, and was hit with a blast of icy wind so cold she had to slam it shut right away.
She shivered, pulling her blanket around her, glad to be tucked safely indoors with the heating on and a pair of thick, fluffy socks underneath her layers of blankets.
Her guilt grew. What if he was freezing half to death out there? If it were any other guest, Ellie would have insisted they bunk down inside with her by now. Just because she didn’t trust herself around him, that didn’t mean Dash deserved to wind up a human popsicle by dawn.
She sighed and threw off the covers, reaching for her clothes again.
She’d better go fetch him. This was purely professional, she told herself.
Her parents had left her to be a good host, and that meant not leaving the guests to die of hypothermia.
But just as she was pulling on a sweater, ready to brave the winds outside, Ellie heard a muffled banging noise from downstairs. Someone was at the door.
She hurried down, turning all the lights back on.
“Hello?” Ellie pulled the door open, and a snow-covered figure came stumbling in with a duffel bag. Dash.
“I was just coming to get you!” she exclaimed, shutting the door quickly behind him. “I’m sorry, you can sleep here tonight. I should never have rented that cabin to you in the first place. It’s not cut out for this weather.”
“You can say that again.” Dash stomped his boots and shook off the snow. His dark hair was damp with melted flakes, and his cheeks were red from the cold. And his lips…
His lips.
The feel of them flashed back to her, the heat and pure desire of being pressed tightly against him. Ellie shivered at the memory, then tried to ignore the fantasies that had been spinning in her head all night.
What else could that mouth do…?
She shook her head, trying to focus on what he was saying. “I should sue,” Dash was telling her, “for the injuries sustained trying to make that bloody stove light, for starters.”
Sue? She looked at him anxiously, worried he really was upset, but he seemed weirdly upbeat considering he’d spent half the night in a frigid cabin of doom. Ellie led him upstairs, wondering for a moment if this was all pretext, a ruse to get inside with her and pick up right where they left off.
Her pulse kicked. Had he been up all night thinking the same scandalous thoughts as her?
“You seem in a pretty good mood, considering,” she said evenly, showing him into their living room.
“I’ve been writing.” Dash announced with a triumphant grin. “Thirty-five pages tonight, I’m on a roll!”
“You beat your writer’s block? Congratulations!”
She was happy for him, but Ellie still felt a little pull of disappointment. She’d been up for hours obsessing over that kiss, but clearly he hadn’t given it a second thought.
“I would have written more,” Dash continued, sounding amped up. “But my fingers started to seize up from the cold. Ah, central heating,” he sighed, collapsing on the couch. “Winds from the gods!”
She smiled, glad at least he wasn’t still shivering in the dark cabin. “You’re welcome to it. I’m not sure where to put you,” she added. “We rented out my parents’ master suite, and my sister’s room is kind of small—”
“I’m good right here.” Dash leaned back into the cushions, “And if you can point me to a kettle and a bag of tea, I’ll be set for the night.”
He smiled at her, that charming, roguish smile. If she was right there on the couch with him, she’d be set too.
Rules. She needed more rules.
“A cup of tea.” Ellie nodded, backing away before she could jump him. “It’s the least I can do.”
She bustled into the small kitchen next door and busied herself filling the kettle and hunting down some tea. It was a good distraction from the fact that the safe, lake-sized distance between her and Dash was now way smaller.
And much less safe.
So, he was spending the night in her home with her bedroom just down the hall. That didn’t mean a thing. She would just give him his hot tea and go back to bed—and keep a locked door between them. She could show some self-control.
Easy.
“Do you want herbal or English Breakfast?” she called.
“Anything caffeinated, thanks.” Dash’s voice came from right behind her, making Ellie jump. “I figure I’ll pull an all-nighter and keep writing.”
He was standing in the doorway, looming large in the small space.
She blinked. He had stripped off his bulky winter gear, and was wearing a pair of perfectly-fitted jeans and a vintage navy T-shirt that clung to his torso.
She realized that it was the first time he hadn’t been bundled up against the cold, and suddenly, she could see the outline of his torso and muscular, defined arms—
A whistle broke her train of thought. “The kettle!” Ellie leaped over to the stove to take it off the flame. She was certain she was blushing by now, but maybe she could pretend it was just the heat.
“So the script is going well?” she babbled, pouring two mugs and dunking the tea bags in.
“Knock on wood.” Dash rapped the doorframe. “I guess all I really needed was the right inspiration.”
“I’m glad. That it’s working out, I mean. Your writing. After you came all this way. Maybe it’s the woods after all, nature, all that stuff.”
Just stop.
She took a deep breath, then turned back to him. Dash was gazing straight at her, with a heart-stopping intensity in his eyes.
Heat flooded through her.
Oh boy.
Ellie gulped. “Listen, about before…” she blurted.
He cleared his throat. “Right. That. I’m sorry. It was completely out of line.”
Her heart sank. “It was?”
“I must have got caught up in the scene,” Dash continued, sounding apologetic. “You know, the snow, the moonlight… Won’t happen again,” he finished. “Promise.”
“Oh. Good,” Ellie answered slowly. “I mean, great. Just wanted to make sure we’re both on the same page…”
She trailed off, embarrassed. It’s what she’d wanted, right?
No risk of making the same mistake all over again.
But for some reason, she found her gaze straying to his lips, wondering how they would feel kissing her deeper; harder, there in the warmth with nothing to stop him peeling off that shirt and her running her hands all over his—
Ellie grabbed a mug of tea in each hand. “Ready!”
She tried to exit, but he blocked her way for a moment. “Sorry,” he said, moving to the right—just as she did, too. They both bobbed in an awkward mirror dance until he finally stood aside with a chuckle to let her through.
In the living room, Ellie set his mug on the coffee table in front of the couch, then went to light the firewood already laid out in the grate.
The tinder flickered alight, quickly catching into a merry blaze while Dash folded his long limbs down onto the couch.
She bolted for the armchair furthest away from him.
But even from there, she couldn’t help thinking how romantic the cozy sitting room had suddenly become: fire blazing, lights dim, with the snow still tumbling down outside the windows.
Even though the rest of the inn was full of guests, it felt like the two of them were completely alone.
“So, what changed?” she asked, steering her thoughts back to safer territory. “For your writing, I mean. A last-minute flash of inspiration?”
“Something like that.” He propped his head on one hand, watching her with a curious stare. “What about you, couldn’t sleep?”
“The guilt kept me up,” Ellie joked. “I was picturing you huddled in the corner, burning script pages to stay alive.”