Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Early morning walks were looking a little different since his and Nora’s first date.
Now they took them together.
Every morning, he asked if she would prefer to go out on the jet ski—because he remembered how much she said she loved starting her day on the water—but she always refused.
Well, it had only been five days, but still…
Today was the kind of morning he would have preferred to stay in bed, but when she texted and asked if he minded a little rain, he had told her no.
Mainly because he didn’t want to miss out on their time together when no one else was around.
So, here they were, on a gray and dreary morning, walking along a path they hadn’t tried before.
There was a definite chill in the air, mist hovered low over the water, and the path beneath Milo’s sneakers was darkened by rain that hadn’t quite decided what it wanted to be yet.
Not a storm. Not nothing. Just enough drizzle to bead on his jacket and make him regret not wearing something warmer.
He liked mornings like this—quiet and hushed, the world paused between asleep and awake—when it was just the two of them. No resort guests, no nosy but well-meaning friends, no responsibilities.
Nora walked beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie, her ponytail already damp and darkening at the ends.
She moved easily, her stride relaxed but purposeful, like she belonged out here in a way Milo never quite did.
He was still adjusting his pace, still mentally noting where the gravel shifted beneath his feet, and where roots nudged up from the dirt.
“So,” he was saying, because apparently he couldn’t stop himself, “the thing about distributed systems is that everyone assumes it’s just redundancy, but really it’s about fault tolerance at scale. You’re designing for failure before it happens.”
He glanced sideways at her.
Nora nodded, an encouraging smile in place, but her gaze had drifted to the lake, to the way raindrops dimpled its surface in widening circles.
Oh.
Milo cleared his throat. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
She looked back at him. “Doing what?”
“Talking about work like it’s fascinating to everyone.” He gave a sheepish half-smile. “You can tell me if you’re bored. I won’t be offended. Much.”
Nora laughed, the sound bright against the muted morning. “Milo, I promise I’m not bored.”
“You say that like you’re contractually obligated.”
“I say that like I mean it.” She bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “I enjoy hearing you talk about the things you care about. Even if I don’t understand half of it.”
“Only half?” He grinned. “You’re ahead of most people.”
She rolled her eyes. “You light up when you talk about it. You become more animated.” Shrugging, she added, “And I really enjoy seeing that side of you.”
Warmth spread through his chest. “Well,” he said, emboldened, “if you ever want a crash course in cloud architecture, I can…”
A sudden crack split the air.
Lightning streaked across the sky, bright and sharp, close enough that Milo felt it in his bones before the thunder followed—deep and rolling, echoing over the water.
Nora stopped short.
Milo stopped with her, heart thudding. “Okay,” he said, already turning back toward the cabins. “That feels like our cue.”
“Yep,” she agreed, eyes bright now, adrenaline flickering across her face. “We should run.”
Before he could protest—before he could remind her that run was not a word he typically associated with any part of his life—she took off down the path.
“Oh, come on,” he muttered, breaking into a jog after her.
The drizzle thickened almost immediately, the rain turning from polite to insistent. Nora laughed as she ran, boots splashing through shallow puddles, her pace easy and unbothered. She glanced over her shoulder, ponytail whipping.
“You okay back there?”
“I am…” Milo huffed, legs already protesting, “regretting several life choices.”
She slowed just enough to let him catch up, flashing him a grin. “You’re doing great.”
“Liar,” he said, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Old habits had him wanting to be offended that she felt the need to stop and check on him, but he pushed them aside.
They rounded the curve where the trees thinned and the cabins came into view, rain slicking the wooden steps and railings. Another flash of lightning illuminated everything in stark white for half a second, followed by thunder that sounded a lot closer than Milo was comfortable with.
They sprinted the last stretch.
Nora reached her cabin first, fumbling with the key as rain plastered her hoodie to her shoulders. Milo skidded to a stop beside her just as the door swung open, both of them laughing, breathless, and soaked.
She ushered them inside quickly, slamming the door shut behind them.
The sudden quiet was startling.
Rain drummed against the roof, steady and loud now, and the air inside smelled faintly of pine and coffee.
He knew how much she enjoyed her morning coffee and always had a cup before she did almost anything else in the morning.
Nora leaned back against the door, chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed from exertion.
Milo braced his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Okay,” he said between breaths, “I officially acknowledge that you are… significantly more athletic than I am.”
She laughed again, pushing off the door. “You kept up.”
“Barely.”
“But you did.” She shrugged. “It still counts.”
She crossed the room to the small linen closet and grabbed a couple of towels, tossing one to him. “Here. Before you drip all over the place.”
He caught it, wiping rain from his hair, his glasses, his face. The quiet settled around them again. Watching her dry off was mesmerizing, and he couldn’t help but wish he were that towel—gently rubbing all over her body.
Obviously, he kept that thought to himself.
The last five days had been pretty amazing and unexpected.
When they weren’t being so defensive around each other, they realized there was something special between them.
They spent most of their free time together either out walking or having their meals together, and most nights they would end up back here at her cabin where they would kiss until he thought he’d lose his mind.
But he was always respectful, never pushing for anything more than she was willing to give.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t get a read on whether she wanted more from him or if she was fine with them making out like they were teenagers back in high school. She wasn’t giving him any clues and honestly, he was too afraid to ask because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
It was a hell of a predicament.
Across the room, Nora’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
She picked it up, frowning slightly, before her expression shifted into something like relief. “Huh.”
“What?” Milo asked.
She turned the screen toward him. “Trail advisory. Storm warning. All guided hikes canceled until further notice.”
Milo blinked. “All of them?”
“All of them. Slater takes weather warnings seriously, so I’m guessing this is just the beginning of a storm system moving through.
” She set the phone down and looked around the cabin as if seeing it differently now.
“Which means…” Pausing, she met his gaze.
“We’ve got nothing but time this morning. ”
Outside, the rain kept falling.
And Milo had the sudden, unmistakable feeling that this moment—this detour —had turned into something else entirely.
But he was also cautiously optimistic.
The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself by misreading the situation, but when he glanced up and saw how she had somehow moved closer, he stilled as he scanned her face.
She met his gaze and didn’t look away. There was warmth there, and something searching too, as if she’d finally set down whatever defenses she usually carried.
The air between them seemed to still, the distant rumble of thunder fading until all Milo could register was how close she stood.
Her breath brushed his skin when she exhaled, soft and unhurried, and he had the sudden, unmistakable sense that if he moved even an inch closer, she wouldn’t step back.
She wasn’t joking or deflecting now. Whatever she was offering him didn’t need words.
It was an invitation, clear enough that his pulse kicked up just recognizing it.
Thank God…
Swallowing hard, he closed the distance between them even as he reached up and gently caressed the line of her jaw.
Her skin was so soft, and as his fingers softly glided down the side of her neck, he caught the slight hitch in her breathing.
Her dark eyes slowly shut, and she whispered his name.
Never in his life had anyone made his name sound sexier than she did in that moment.
His other hand rested on her hip just as he lowered his head, placing the barest of kisses on her cheek.
“Tell me this is okay,” he murmured against her skin. “Tell me it’s okay for me to touch you.”
She made that low, throaty sound that he loved so much right before she breathlessly replied, “Yes.”
He kissed her cheek, the line of her jaw, her throat, all the while loving the way her breathing changed and quickened. His hands lovingly roamed from her waist to her back—stopping briefly to squeeze her bottom—before smoothing back up and carefully removing the clip from her hair.
Nora’s head slowly fell back with a soft sigh as his hands anchored in her damp hair.
Pressing his mouth to her throat, he kissed and nipped his way up until he was a breath away from her lips.
She instantly lifted her head and met his gaze, and all he could think was how she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.
“Kiss me, Milo,” she whispered. “Kiss me and don’t stop.”
Relief washed over him in a wave as his arm banded around her. “I was waiting for you to ask,” he said, his voice low, steady, like he’d already decided what he’d do the moment she did.