Page 16 of Chilled and Thrilled

As I flick on the lights in the house, however, I recognize that I have no choice in the matter. This storm isn’t forecast to peter out until late in the afternoon on Christmas, which means Sophie will be here forat least two days.

“The shower in the guest room should be fully stocked.”

Sophie nods, uncharacteristically quiet as she follows me through the house and upstairs, eyes roaming over the new environment. The house is big, too big for one person, really. I purchased the land when the girls were teenagers and completed construction a few years later. Neither of them has ever lived here, apart from a few weeks at a time during summer break from college.

When I designed it, somehow it never occurred to me I would be here alone.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” I break the silence when we reach my bedroom door. Awareness of her in my space, only a few feet from my bed, prickles at the back of my neck as I move into the closet, experiencing a split moment of indecision. What do I give her?

Socks, sweatpants, and a soft, worn T-shirt I’ve owned since college make it into the pile. The house is warm, despite the snow building up on the windowsills, and when I emerge, I find Sophie where I left her, hovering in the doorway.

“Thank you.” She takes the stack of clothes and offers me a tired smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Something sharp is lodged in my throat as I ask, “Are you alright?”

Sophie’s eyes are on the dark window as she considers, reaching up to touch the ends of her blood-stained hair. “A little tired. It doesn’t hurt much, though. Probably the painkillers.”

“I’m glad.”

Neither of us moves, and after an age, she lifts herbrilliant green eyes to meet mine. For the first time ever, I want to look away. I haven’t gotten past the surreal sense of horror that rose inside me when I saw that car begin to slide out of control. A feeling that intensified as I stared down at her face, watching bright red blood spread over the snowy pavement beneath her—knowing she was hurt but not knowing how badly.

It could have been so much worse. I know that. Objectively speaking, we were lucky. Even so, the guilt that came from knowing I made her bleed is intense and unyielding. Every second we spent in that emergency room, I was wishing it were me sitting on the narrow white bed instead of her.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” I utter, my voice hollow.

Her head falls slightly to the side, eyebrows pinched together. “Bram, you saved my life. I would have died, or been hurt a lot worse than a cut. You—” Her words falter, and she lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You were an actual hero today, and if you dare feel even a little bit guilty, I’m going to replace all the ranch dressing in your fridge with blue cheese.”

My answering laugh is weak. “I would know immediately.”

Sophie’s smile is warm and effortless. It’s the first time I’ve seen it all day, and some of the tension bleeds from my body. I love her smile. “Right, I forgot you have a sixth sense about these things. Some people get talking to dead people or seeing the future, you got cheese-based condiment detection.”

“Blue cheese isn’t a condiment, it’s the nectar of hell.”

“Useful you can detect it, then. We should inform the Vatican.”

I huff, irrationally irritated she’s absolved me of some of my guilt, that she’s made light of a day that’s been nothing short of a walking nightmare. The woman is standing in front of me with blood staining her hair and clothes, and she’strying to make me feel better. “Stop trying to make this okay, Sophie. Today could have ended very differently.”

She frowns. “Why were you out there, anyway? Why did you want to drive me home so badly? Why did you pick me up this morning?”

Embarrassment has me opening my mouth and closing it again, struggling to think of any possible explanation other than the truth. There isn’t one. This morning, I couldn’t stand the idea of her walking through the cold when I drove right by her apartment, but this afternoon was something else entirely.

When I rounded the corner and saw she’d gone from the lobby, my first, irrational thought was that she’d left with Holden. The panic was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, but only moments later, it was eclipsed by how I felt when that car started sliding.

I told her I would give her a ride, and she said no. If she were anyone else, that would have been the end of it. I certainly wouldn’t have run after her. Unfortunately, I’m not behaving like her employer, or the father of one of her closest friends. I’m behaving like a man half out of his mind with jealousy and fear that I’ll lose a woman I can’t have.

Finally, when I can’t put off responding any longer, I shake my head. “I was worried. The roads were slick.”

It’s not sufficient. There are still questions in Sophie’s eyes, questions I couldn’t begin to answer, and more than ever, I wish I could. I wish I could pull her into my arms and hold her, feel her heart beat, feel the warmth of her skin on mine, and know she’s okay.

Christ, I want that so badly, and I think she does too. This would be more than sex, however. As the last few days have made painfully clear, I have feelings for this woman, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what this could become if I gave in. She seems to understand me in a way I’ve neverencountered before, in a way that should be unnerving but isn’t. There isn’t a chance in hell that I wouldn’t fall in love with her.

Hell, I’m beginning to suspect I already have.

Sophie blinks up at me, her gaze not straying from mine. Maybe it’s my imagination, maybe I’m so far gone for this woman that I can’t look at the situation objectively, but it’s like she can see the feelings written on my face. She probably can. After a year of obsession, of catching myself staring at her from across the room and finding any excuse to be near her, of almost losing her today, I’m too fucking tired to hide it.

Something is happening here. This moment is too much, too intense for the relationship we’ve been pretending to have.

I could kiss her.

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