Page 14 of Snowed In With Jack Frost
“I know how it sounds—”
“Do you?” She turns back to face me, and now I can see the hurt underneath the anger. “Because it sounds like stalking, Ja’war. It sounds like you’ve been living in my peripheral vision for three years without my knowledge or consent.”
The accusation cuts deep because it’s true. No matter how I dress it up with noble intentions or romantic yearning, I have been watching her without permission, learning her life while remaining invisible.
“I never intended to cause harm—”
“Intent doesn’t matter.” She crosses her arms, defensive now. “Effect matters. And the effect is that I feel violated. Like my privacy has been invaded by someone I’m supposed to trust.”
The words cut deep because they’re fair. Completely, devastatingly fair.
“I know,” I say quietly. “You have every right to be angry.”
“I do. But here’s what I don’t understand.” She moves closer, studying my face with those perceptive eyes. “Why? Why me? Why three years of routes and watching and secret protecting? I’m nobody special, Ja’war. I’m just a mechanic in a small town who fixes things and minds her own business.”
The question hangs between us, begging for the truth that will either bridge the gap or destroy any chance we might have had.
“Because,” I say, meeting her eyes, “from the moment I saw you, everything in me recognized you as essential. As mine.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that level of raw honesty.
“Xarian biology includes what you might call... instinctive recognition. When we encounter our ideal mate, our bodies know immediately. There is no confusion, no gradual realization. Simply absolute certainty that this person is meant to be ours.”
Her mouth falls open slightly. “Are you saying—”
“I am saying that you are my fated mate, Fiona Davis. And I have spent three years trying to be worthy of someone who doesn’t even know I exist.”
The confession hangs in the air between us like a live wire, crackling with implications neither of us is prepared to handle. She stares at me, processing, and I can see the exact moment when the full meaning hits her.
“Fated mate,” she repeats slowly. “You’re talking about some kind of alien soulmate situation.”
“In essence, yes.”
“And you determined this how? By watching me change oil and fix transmissions?”
Despite everything, her dry delivery almost makes me smile. “By watching you work with mechanical systems like you understand their souls. By seeing you help stranded travelers without expecting payment. By observing your strength, your competence, your refusal to be anything less than exactly who you are.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, working through the implications. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more uncertain.
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, Ja’war. This whole fated mate thing.”
“I know. Which is why I never approached you, never tried to force contact or connection. I hoped that someday, perhaps, our paths might cross naturally, and you might see something in me worth knowing.”
“Instead, you got shot and crashed on my doorstep.”
“Yes.”
She moves to the window again, looking out at the pristine snow. “So what happens now? You’ve confessed to three years of stalking and declared me your destined soulmate. What’s the next step in this cosmic romance plan?”
Before I can answer, the radio on her workbench crackles to life.
“—organized search teams have located what appears to be a crash site approximately fifteen kilometers north of Frosses Ridge. Military advisors are en route to secure the area. All residents are advised to remain indoors and report any suspicious activity immediately—”
The blood freezes in my veins. They found my ship.
Fiona turns from the window, her face pale. “fifteen kilometers north. That’s where you said—”
“We have to go. Now.” I’m already moving, gathering my coat and emergency pack. “If they breach the cloaking system, if they access my cargo—”
