Chapter 4 #2
He’s no longer just a fantasy anymore. A thought I can tuck away and pull out whenever I’m lonely.
Now, he’s living, breathing, and real.
It’s just the two of us in this cabin in the woods… I’m not usually one to over-romanticize a situation, but this one is pretty romantic.
He’s here, taking care of me, just the way he did so long ago.
And I do need a man.
Not forever. Hell, not even for very long. All I need is a moment where I don’t have to overthink every decision. Every move I make toward a future I don’t want.
That I don’t think I ever wanted.
I’m leaving anyway. The decision has already been made, such as it is. As soon as I see my dad, I’m leaving.
Holt just happens to be here.
But what if he could be a memory I took with me?
Isn’t it time I stopped waiting for life to happen to me and started reaching for what I want?
The answer settles in my chest. It feels right.
Decision made, I close the journal just as the scent of bacon reaches me and my stomach growls, reminding me that dinner was a long time ago.
I pull on some leggings and a T-shirt and step into the hallway, following the mouthwatering smell to the kitchen.
Holt stands at the stove, his back to me. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing those thick, strong forearms. There’s something about a man with strong arms…
Especially one who can cook.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I take the moment to watch how easily he moves around the space. Confident and capable. Completely at ease.
There’s something dangerous about it, too.
Especially knowing I’ve already decided this doesn’t have to mean anything.
My lips curve into a slow, sassy smile, and for the first time in way too long, I’m not worried about consequences.
Holt
With my back to the hallway, my hands occupied with plating breakfast, and my thoughts firmly focused on anything but her, I didn’t hear her come in.
“So,” she says lightly. “Is this the part where I pretend I didn’t just wake up in your bed?”
I jerk slightly, the spatula clattering against the pan.
Fuck.
I turn, and the words I was about to say die in my throat. I’ve just spent the last thirty minutes convincing myself to remember she’s Luke’s kid and just like that…I forget why.
She looks different than last night.
Relaxed and confident in a way she wasn’t last night. She’s wearing leggings and a tight T-shirt that hugs her tits beautifully, with only an inch of creamy skin on her midriff exposed.
Her blonde hair is loose in waves over her shoulder, her eyes bright. She looks rested, and there’s a softness to her that shouldn’t feel so fucking dangerous.
But it does.
She’s way too damn beautiful to be ignored.
The realization hits hard, low, and unwelcome, cutting straight through my resolve.
What I need is distance, but now she’s standing less than ten feet from me, smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
And what she’s doing to me.
She hums thoughtfully, leaning against the doorframe in a way that thrusts one curvy hip out.
“Hungry?” I deliberately ignore her earlier comment and continue plating breakfast, using the distraction to look anywhere but at her.
“Starving.”
There’s something in the way she says it while her gaze drifts over me, slow and unguarded. It’s not accidental. It’s very intentional.
And definitely not shy.
This is new.
Last night, I could almost believe she was a scared little girl who needed protecting and comforting.
This morning…she’s a woman. And she knows exactly what she wants.
She pushes off the wall and takes a step closer. Not enough to touch me, but close enough that I catch her scent. “You need any help?” she asks, tilting her head, eyes flicking briefly to my hands before lifting back to my face.
“No,” I say, the word coming out rougher than intended. “Everything’s ready.”
She reaches out, her fingers brushing my forearm like it’s an accident—it’s not. She pretends she doesn’t notice the way the simple contact tightens every muscle in my body.
She doesn’t pull her hand back right away, instead reaching for a piece of bacon.
I bite back a low growl, set the spatula down, and straighten, needing that distance more than ever. “I’ve got some work to do in my shop this morning.”
Her brows lift, her smile dipping a little as if she’s disappointed. “During a storm?”
“It’s eased up enough,” I say. “I need to get some things done now in case we lose power.” It’s a flimsy excuse, even though it’s the truth. “I’ll be back later.”
What about breakfast?” She doesn’t bother hiding the disappointment in her voice.
“Eat,” I tell her. “Don’t wait on me.”
She moves forward, as if she’s going to object again. Either that or try to physically stop me.
I don’t give her a chance to do either. I move past her, grab my jacket from the hook, and head for the door. “Make yourself at home.”
My hand is on the doorknob when she says, “Be careful out there.”
Despite my better judgment, I turn around. She’s watching me, one hand on her hip, the other holding that piece of bacon between her smirking lips.
Fuck. Me.
Without another word, I slip outside and onto the porch, where I let myself take a deep breath of the cold air, grounding myself.
This is getting dangerous.
She’s too damn appealing. Too damn tempting.
Worse, I’m pretty sure she knows it.
I’m going to have to be a hell of a lot more careful if I don’t want to lose control.
The problem is, I’m no longer sure control is what I want.