Page 24 of Next to You

But I had wantedthisparticular woman for so damn long. Therefore, she was themostimportant woman to protect and respect.Fucking logic.

I stepped to the side, gesturing for her to lead the way into the living room.

“Should we get more wood?” She turned back to ask. There was a pensive glimmer in the shadow of her eyes as she studied my face. I’d confused her. Hell, I confused myself.

“Yes, but I’ll get it. The snow is pretty deep.”

“Oh. Sure.” A brief look of hurt flashed across her face. “I’ll just—see what’s in the kitchen then. Keep the fire going. Make the bed. Take a sponge bath. Then maybe I’ll make us some lunch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be back.” I grabbed my coat and bolted to the front door to let myself out, stopping short on the porch when I saw it was snowing again. “Damn it,” I muttered as I stalked down the steps.

We couldn’t go home even if we decided to make a break for it and hike to the main road. It wouldn’t be safe for her; she would be knee-deep in snow and possibly waist-deep in some areas, and actually making it to the highway was unlikely. Our only hope would be that my dad or one of my brothers could reach us, but they were busy helping out in town.

When I reached the small woodshed at the back of the property, I pulled my phone from my pocket. There was no signal, and the battery was almost dead. I needed to talk to my father, one of my brothers, or Charlotte. I had too many conflicting feelings running through my mind to sort them out on my own.

Trip after trip of carrying armfuls of firewood to the porch didn’t burn out the tension coursing through my body.

How would I ever be able to hold myself back from her?

There was no way to stall any longer. We had more than enough wood. I stood in the doorway, contemplating my next move as I tried not to stare too hard at Lucy in the kitchen.

She hadn’t heard me come in. Her back was to me as she danced to whatever song she was humming.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. I could not watch her shake that gorgeous ass of hers for one more second.

“Hey!” A startled laugh burst out of her. “You were out there for a while. Did you get wood?” We both noticed the juvenile double entendre at the same time. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

It broke the tension that had drifted between us when I left the cabin.

“Yeah, I got it,” I grinned. “It’s piled up on the porch in the rack. I’ll bring some of it in later. The snow is pretty deep back there, like I thought. And it’s coming down again.”

Her hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard and completely gorgeous topknot. My dad’s red plaid “Kiss the Cook” apron was tied around her waist, but most of all, the sight of her grinning at me as she stirred whatever was making this cabin smell so good in the pot was about to undo every vow I had made to myself not to start something while we were here.

She was fucking irresistible. She was the embodiment of everything I’d ever wanted my future to be, right there within arm’s reach. I could not allow myself to fuck this up.

“Come here. Taste this.” She dipped a spoon from the dish rack by the sink in the pot.

“It smells great.” I rounded the kitchen island and took her hand in mine to raise the spoon to my mouth.

She inhaled sharply and her cheeks flushed that pretty shade of pink I was growing so fond of. Despite myself, I was pleased that my touch had affected her.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

I blew lightly, my gaze fixed on hers, before sliding the spoon into my mouth.

“Delicious.” I watched the play of emotions on her face as a soft smile floated across her lips.

“It’s chicken noodle soup,” she murmured. “My grandma calls it cheater noodle soup—all frozen, canned, and carton ingredients. It’s yummy, though. Are you hungry?”

“Starving. Oreos aren’t the best breakfast. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” I rounded the island again and slid out of my jacket, placing it on one of the barstools at the counter.

She tilted her head toward the sink, and I nodded as she filled a glass with water and slid it across the counter.

“Thanks.” I tipped it back and drained it in one long gulp.

“Anyway, about that—not being able to help ourselves, I mean. I thought about what you said—about not kissing me—and you’re probably right.”

My eyebrows shot up. If she agreed with me, it would make this so much easier. “Yeah?”

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