Page 15 of Frost and Felines

"And somehow that worked for you?"

"I love a woman who has her own passionate opinions." His gaze held hers, making her chest tighten. "So, three months ago, right before your big move to Paris for school, I couldn't bear the thought of waiting..."

"So we eloped." Mallory finished, trying to ignore how her heart skipped. "Simple ceremony, just us."

"Perfect explanation for why no one saw it." He grabbed a notepad. "Now, favorite color?"

"Are we really doing this right now?"

"Mrs. Striker would know these things about her husband."

"Green," she sighed. "You?"

"Blue. Like your eyes." He winked, and she rolled her eyes in response. "Favorite food?"

"Thai. Specifically pad thai with extra peanuts."

"Good to know for future room service orders. I'm partial to steak, medium rare."

They spent the next hour trading details, building a life that never happened. Mallory found herself relaxing despite herself, drawn into the easy back-and-forth of their conversation. It was almost fun, creating this alternate reality where she wasn't alone, where someone knew her favorite book and how she took her coffee again.

"Think you can handle being married to me?" Kieran asked.

"I suppose I'll manage. As long as you remember I hate mushrooms and love dark chocolate."

"Already noted, dear wife." He stood, stretching. "Ready to face our adoring public?"

Kieran's arm settled around Mallory's waist, warm and solid, as they walked through the inn's winding hallways. The contact sent tiny sparks across her skin, unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome. Each step brought a fresh wave of sensations - the brush of his fingers against her hip, the subtle strength in his grip, and the way he unconsciously drew her closer when they passed other guests.

"The tiny library is my pride and joy," Kieran said, guiding her through the carved door. "Took me six months just to source all the vintage books."

Mallory's breath caught. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched upward, filled with leather-bound volumes. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, flanked by oversized leather armchairs. The scent of old paper and wood polish wrapped around her like a familiar blanket.

"This is incredible," she whispered, fighting the urge to run her fingers along the spines.

"Go ahead." His breath tickled her ear. "I saw how many books you bought from the store. You're practically vibrating trying to hold yourself back."

Heat crept up her neck. "That obvious?"

"Like a kid in a candy store." His thumb traced circles on her hip. "The restoration work nearly broke me, but worth every penny."

She wandered closer to the shelves, his arm still around her. "These are first editions?"

"Some. Others are just beautiful copies." His chest rumbled against her back as he reached past her to pull down a book. "This one's my favorite - complete collection of Greek myths, illustrated."

The leather was butter-soft under her fingers. "You did all this yourself?"

"Every detail," he said, the pride evident in his voice. "From picking the wood stain to choosing which chair went where. Drove my contractor crazy with the specifics."

She glanced around the room again, seeing it through new eyes. The careful placement of reading lamps, the hidden outlets for laptops, and the way the afternoon sun streamed through the windows at just the right angle.

"You've built something really special here."

His arm tightened around her slightly. "That means a lot, coming from someone who writes about interior design." The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity as he met her gaze. She pulled away suddenly, needing to put some distance between them.

Kieran cleared his throat. "Do you want to see the garden room now? It's got a glass ceiling - perfect for watching storms roll in."

The mention of storms made her stomach clench slightly, but his enthusiasm was infectious. "Lead the way."

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