Chapter Thirteen
Melina
Sunday was the one day of the week I reserved for family. No work. No friends. No bill collectors. We’d cook, clean, play games, and spend time together that our busy schedules didn’t allow during the rest of the week. But this Sunday was different.
Not that my plans had changed. Dinner was in the oven.
Olivia and Lucy were prepping the board games, arguing over whose turn it was to pick.
Dad was lounging by the fire with a magazine in hand, and I’d spent the entire morning scrubbing corners otherwise forgotten.
I was physically present and doing my share, but mentally, I was stuck on last night.
Lost in the impossibility of Zane Alexander.
I’d been trying all morning to convince myself that what happened between us was a fluke. He wasn’t as understanding and honest as he seemed. My unexpected feelings weren’t a big deal. I wasn’t still yearning for more.
One date was good enough.
But it was hard to believe any of those lies when I’d experienced the most electrifying night of my life and the feel of his hands and lips were still imprinted on my skin.
Even without sex—hell, we hadn’t even removed any clothing—Zane had helped me remember that, underneath the layers of responsibility and expectation, I was a woman with her own wants and needs.
Ravenous, agonizing, unfulfilled needs.
Damn him.
His sudden sense of morality was infuriating. Yet also incredibly endearing. I couldn’t fault a man for following through on his promises. Especially when he was well known for making none.
Still, as glad as I was that he’d done as agreed and stopped me from making what would have likely been the biggest mistake of my life, part of me was still disappointed. Our one night was over, and that was supposed to be it.
Sure, he’d made some tantalizing, filthy suggestions, and had hinted there could be more to come. But that was just a fantasy.
Our situation hadn’t changed. He still posed a threat to my career, and I didn’t have room to be careless. Not with my promotion so close in sight.
“Girls!” Dad called from the living room.
The urgency in his tone sent my heart straight to my throat. Eight months ago, there’d been no warning at all. No call for help. Just me walking into his bedroom and finding him on the floor, the phone inches from his hand, too late to use it.
Now, I dashed from the kitchen, air sawing raggedly through my lungs. When I found him standing at the bay window with a half-smile on his face, I sagged against the doorframe, shaking and out of breath.
Olivia and Lucy had somehow beat me there and were joining him at the window, crowding around it.
“What’s going on?” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Lucy turned a beaming smile my way. “It’s snowing.”
“First snowfall of the year,” Dad said, his words clear and his tone almost joyful.
I cozied up to them, wedging myself between Olivia and Dad, not bothering to tell them I’d already witnessed the first snowfall. That moment was too private, too magical to share.
The glass was naturally frosted with lines of crystallized moisture that webbed intricate patterns across each pane, and our collective breath added a light fog to the view. But oh my, what a pretty picture.
Huge tufts of snow floated from the heavens, dancing around each other as they fell to earth. The ground was dotted with splotches of white as the last of the fall leaves that hadn’t been raked were quickly hidden from sight.
It was beautiful and judging from the increasing speed at which it was falling, was going to last a while. This snowfall looked like it was here to stay, and business at the resort would really pick up now. Chapman would need to get out his sleigh.
I sighed, the memory of my ride with Zane warming through me before I could stop it.
“It’s so pretty,” Lucy whispered in awe.
Olivia hummed her agreement. “It is, but I’m not shoveling tonight.”
Dad’s soft chuckle tickled me as he slung his arm around my waist, bringing me in for a light hug. “Your mom would’ve loved this.”
I burrowed my head into his chest, just like I had when I was little. My eyes welled, and emotion too big to hold on to threatened to pull me under. But I held fast, secure in the arms of my father—the strongest man I’d ever known.
I wanted to freeze this moment and live inside it forever.
“Okay.” Olivia’s no-nonsense tone dispelled the moment. “Who’s ready for Risk?”
“No,” Lucy complained with a pained groan. “That game takes forever. What’s wrong with Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit?”
“You’re so boring,” Olivia teased. “I want to take over the world.”
“My vote’s for Monopoly,” I mumbled into Dad’s sweater, his chest rumbling with more laughter against my cheek.
“Go…fish,” he stammered. “My vote is the only one that counts.”
We all laughed, slowly overcoming a year’s worth of lingering sorrow.
“Fine, I’ll get the cards,” Olivia said on a sigh.
“I need to check on dinner,” I told them, leaving them to argue over how many rounds of cards we had to play.
The kitchen was warm and smelled of a mix of lemon cleanser and fresh spices.
I popped the top off the roasting pan, adding another dash of pepper, and smiled as I imagined how happy Dad would be to see red meat on his plate for a change.
It was a dish he could only have in moderation and a treat we normally couldn’t afford, but I’d been lucky and found a decent cut on sale.
As I was placing the pan back in the oven, my phone chimed from its spot on the table. I peeked quickly toward it, wondering who’d be calling me on a Sunday. If it was another bill collector, so help me, I would lose all my cool.
After taking my time wiping down the counter and washing my hands, I gave in and checked my phone. Seventy-eight unopened emails, six new texts, one missed call, and one new voicemail. The number on my screen was still labelled unknown, but I’d recognize those digits for the rest of my life.
I punched in the code for my voicemail with shaking hands, my pulse racing hard.
“Hey, firecracker,” his voice rumbled in my ear.
“Hope you’re enjoying your day off. I saw the snow and it reminded me of last night, sitting in the dark, cuddled up next to you, and that sexy fucking sound you made when I kissed up the side of your neck.
” He groaned, and it was the sound of a man in need.
A sound that sent a shockwave of desire rolling through me.
“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know I was thinking of you.”
I saved it, then went back to the start.
The second time through, the words barely mattered. It was his voice. Low and rough and warm, like it was curling around me from across town. The way he said firecracker. The way he groaned. The way he paused before that last line, like maybe he’d wanted to say more.
I wanted to listen to it a hundred more times. I wanted—no, I needed—to hear that Zane beg-me-for-it Alexander was thinking of me too.
“Whoa,” Olivia exclaimed, surprising me as she entered the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here, but something tells me the food is not responsible for that look on your face.”
I fumbled with my phone but wasn’t fast enough to stop the message from starting to replay before my sister snatched it out of my hands.
“Olivia!” I protested, lunging at her.
My younger, taller sister held me off with one hand as she used the other to hold my phone to her ear.
“Please, it’s private,” I begged, giving up my physical struggle—it was pointless anyway.
Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to me with a playful glint in her eyes. “Holy shit, Meli. He sounds hot. Who is it?”
“No one.” I crossed my arms like a petulant child.
She smirked and then without another word hit a button on my phone and put it back up to her ear.
I sighed, wanting to stomp my foot at the fact that my sister was now hearing his message again instead of me.
“Hi,” she said, making the hairs on my arms stand at attention. “This is Olivia Marshall, Melina’s sister. Who’s this?”
My mouth went dry, and my lungs cramped, while I momentarily forgot how to breathe.
“Well, Zane Alexander” —she toyed with a lock of her hair, casting a look of satisfaction my way— “Meli’s standing here, all hot and bothered from your message. I think you better fix that situation sometime soon.”
She paused to laugh at something he said, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch her now or cut off that chunk of hair she was playing with while she was sleeping.
“Here, I’ll let you talk to her and figure it out.” She handed me the phone with a giant, mischief-making grin. “You’re welcome,” she said before sauntering away.
Goodbye, hair.
Every curse I knew rolled through my head as I struggled to find the right words to say. How could I follow a conversation like that?
“Hi,” I mumbled, unable to come up with anything better.
“Hey, my sexy little firecracker,” he growled. “Don’t worry, I’ve been picturing you all hot and bothered for most of the day, anyhow.”
Oh my. “Good to know.” Ugh. And now I sounded like a bitch.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt time with your family, but since I’ve got you…
” He paused, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
“My neighbor, Mrs. Walker—she’s the lady you met last night—she made me this batch of cookies, and it’s the third one she’s given me this week.
I was hoping you’d come over tomorrow after work and help me eat a few before I start giving them away. ”
“What kind are they?” I asked, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from saying more.
“I’ve got shortbread, oatmeal chocolate chip, and she called these ones snickerdoodles?” He chuckled. “But I don’t know what that is.”
“You’ve never had a snickerdoodle?”
“No. I’ve never had anyone bake me cookies before.” A trace of dejection seeped into his tone, and even though I’d been trying to guard my feelings, just that one quiet admission cracked something open in me.
What kind of life had he lived where no one had ever baked him cookies? Not his mother. Not a girlfriend. Not anyone. For a man who seemed to know everyone, and who everyone seemed to love, there was something deeply lonely underneath all of it. Something I recognized.
Ignoring my steadily growing desire for him, I teased, “Well, it would be my pleasure to help break your snickerdoodle virginity.”
Because why not? There were no rules that prevented me from being friends with my colleagues, and he didn’t say it would be a date. This was Zane, after all—one date was all he’d wanted.
But I couldn’t fool myself into believing I could resist him, even if it was.