Page 33 of Holly Jolly Heat
We stood there, close enough to touch but not touching, while the morning light painted the valley gold below us.
"I don't know how to do this," Michelle said finally. "How to be professional and personal at the same time. How to let you in without losing myself. How to trust this."
"Then let me show you. One day at a time. One moment at a time. No pressure. No expectations. Just... possibility."
"Possibility," she repeated softly.
"Yeah. The possibility that this could be everything we've been building toward. That pack could be the thing that makes you stronger, not weaker. That letting people in could be freedom, not a cage."
Her scent shifted—less sharp, more sweet again in a way that made me think she might just let me show her.
"You're very good with words," she said.
"I'm better with images. But for you, I'll use all the words you need."
She smiled, small but genuine. "We should head back. Mom's probably planning some elaborate scheme to throw us together."
"Too late. We're already together. On a mountain. Alone. Pretty sure this qualifies."
"This is professional location scouting."
"If you say so."
We started back down the trail, and this time when Michelle stumbled slightly on an icy patch, I was there to steady her. My hands on her waist, pulling her back against my chest to keep her from falling.
For a moment, we were frozen, her back to my front, my arms around her waist, both of our scents mingling in the cold air.
"Careful," I murmured against her ear. "Ice is dangerous."
"I'm fine," she said, but she didn't pull away immediately.
"I know. But I'm going to catch you anyway. That's what pack does."
She turned in my arms, looking up at me, and we were so close. Close enough that I could see her pulse jumping in her throat. Close enough that one movement would close the distance entirely.
"Ro," she breathed.
"I know. Boundaries. Professional." But I didn't step back. "Tell me to let go, and I will."
She should have. Should have reinforced the walls, maintained the distance, protected herself.
Instead, she stayed right where she was.
"We should get back," she finally said.
"Probably."
"But not yet."
"Not yet," I agreed.
We stood there for another moment, not quite crossing the line but dancing right up to it, before Michelle finally, reluctantly, pulled away.
"Thank you," she said. "For catching me."
"Always."
We hiked back in charged silence, and when we reached her car, Michelle paused with her hand on the door handle.
