Page 4 of Love in a Christmas Storm
“I checked in under C. Nowell—spelled correctly, I might add—and they handed me the key. I didn’t even think twice.”
“Of course not. Just stealing something else that belongs to my family.”
Okay. That one stung. But he didn’t let it show. Instead, he wrapped the towel a little tighter around his waist and glanced toward the window. Snow was falling harder now—fat flakes drifting down like Mother Nature had a flair for the dramatic. The roads would already be slick. Maybe worse.
“There aren’t any other rooms,” he said. “And it’s late. I can’t drive back to town like this.”
Lettie's gaze wasn't on the window or the snow outside. It was on his towel. “That’s not my problem.”
Carlos nodded slowly. Right. Of course it wasn’t. But still.
“I’m not trying to make things awkward,” he said. “We’ll split the space. You can have the bed.”
“I'm not sleeping with you.”
“I wasn't expecting an invitation.”
Her eyes flew to his face for the first time. Was that a blush? Had he just made Lettie Noel embarrassed? Or was that anger? They looked the same on her. He found both looks breathtakingly beautiful. It was unfair that a woman as grumpy as her could shine no matter her mood.
Carlos looked around. The room was charming, cozy, and utterly unequipped for this kind of negotiation. There was no couch. No cot. Just a king-sized bed, a rickety office chair in the corner, and… well.
His eyes landed on the thick faux-fur bear rug in front of the fireplace.
“The bear and I will get acquainted. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”
“You said you're not inviting me into your bed.”
That was definitely a flush of embarrassment and not anger.
“You can't sleep on the floor or the bed.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird. All of this is weird.”
Carlos tilted his head. “I think it’s only weird if we make it weird. We’re both adults. Professionals. We can be… civil.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stood there like a statue carved out of equal parts suspicion and snowmelt. She wouldn’t look at him either—not directly.
Interesting.
Carlos wasn’t wearing much, sure, but if she hated him as much as she claimed, his half-nakedness shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t even register.
Unless it did.
Was Carletta Noel—icy, unimpressed, world-class truth sniper—attracted to him?
It was ridiculous. And a little thrilling.
He watched her jaw clench. She still hadn’t told him to stay, but she also hadn’t told him to go. Only where he could not sleep. Carlos stepped toward the fireplace. The bear's stitched eyes stared up at him like it knew this was a terrible idea.
“Well,” he said lightly, “unless you’re planning to wrestle me out the door, I think I’m staying here tonight.”
Still no answer. But she didn’t leave either. She did glance up at him, and Carlos knew that if there was even the smallest chance that Carletta Noel was looking at him differently—seeing him, maybe for the first time—he wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER FOUR
