Page 19 of Savage Vows

Despite the cold, I have to admit the experience is magical. “How did you arrange all this?”

“Nash took care of it while we were eating.”

I sink into a deep armchair that’s close to the fire, and, true to his word, additional heaters that radiate warmth. The evening isn’t balmy, but it’s not frigid.

After I kick off my flip-flops, I curl my legs beneath me. He drapes a thick blanket over my shoulders, then tucks another across my lap. His hands linger briefly, and I shiver, pulling back from him.

“You’ll warm up in a minute.”

I don’t tell him that I’m not cold. The truth is, I’m hyperaware of him in a way I’ve never experienced.

Before moving away, he hands me my drink.

I take my first sip, and I close my eyes. The addition of the heavy whipping cream has elevated the taste, but the sweetness is cut by the dark chocolate and the whiskey. A faint citrusy taste lingers.

Matteo takes the chair across from mine. He has no jacket, and his shirtsleeves are still rolled back. Unlike me, he’s not under any blankets.

“Good?”

“I think it’s what heaven must taste like.” I grin. “If I may say so myself.” Over the rim of my mug, I study him. “Are you …superhuman or something?” To him, it seems the cold doesn’t exist.

“In what way?”

Realizing he has misinterpreted my meaning, taking my words as a compliment that I didn’t mean, I rush to explain myself. “You’re not wearing a coat.”

He grins. “Is that what you meant?”

“I wasn’t giving you a compliment.”

“No?” He angles his head. “The words can’t be taken back.” With that, he reaches for his mug and studies it quizzically.

“More for me if you don’t like it,” I remind him.

He takes a drink and sits back.

“Well?” I ask.

“Better than I expected.” He lifts the cup again. “The whiskey is damn good in there.”

“Told you to trust me.”

We both fall silent, gazing into the firepit as the flames dance between us.

The faint hum of the heaters blends with the occasional crackle of the fire. I curl deeper into my seat, the warmth of the beverage and the blankets making me cozy.

He seems lost in thought, and the firelight casts shadows across his face. Or maybe that’s just because he’s not guarded.

For a moment, I want to know him better. Brutally I shove the impulse aside. I can’t afford to let my guard down and forget who he is and what he represents.

After we return to the States, I’ll go back home to New Orleans. From there, I’ll vanish again. This time, I’ll do a better job of covering my tracks. In retrospect, posting on social media had been a bad call. I absolutely should have guessed that Matteo would find me.

I underestimated his determination. No way I’ll ever make that mistake again.

He sits back and props an ankle over one knee. “You know about my family. Tell me about yours.”

Since this feels like a safe enough topic, I do. “Like you, I don’t have any sisters. I’m the youngest of four kids.” I shrug. “My father, you know.”

“We’ve met. Along with your oldest brother.” His expression is carefully neutral. Just a guess, but he doesn’t seem to be any more of a fan of them than I am.

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