It still felt like I’d just been gently closed out of something I wanted to be let into.
And for the first time in days, I wasn’t so sure I’d made it past the front door of his heart at all.
I needed a distraction.
A big one.
Preferably in the form of loud clanging pans, a complicated breakfast recipe, or Sienna rattling off one of her unsolicited TED Talks about trail mix ratios for optimal hiking energy.
So when I turned the corner into the Honey Leaf Lodge kitchen expecting to see her wrestling the coffee machine, I was surprised to find Violet there instead, humming to herself like the world had personally offered her an extra slice of joy that morning.
She wore one of her frilly aprons, the cheerful one with lemons on it. She was currently stirring something in a mixing bowl with the kind of dreamy expression that only came from being deeply in love or extremely excited about cinnamon.
Maybe both.
“Oh hey, Fifi!” she said brightly. “Perfect timing. I was just about to put these in the oven.” She gestured to a tray of cookies.
I smiled automatically. “Morning. Didn’t expect you to be down here.”
“Owen and I took the early shift. He’s out front loading a firewood delivery. I volunteered to handle breakfast since you and Sienna have been covering for me so much lately.”
I opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, avoiding her too-curious glance.
“That’s sweet,” I said. “Thanks.”
There was a pause.
She looked at me more closely now, probably picking up on the edge in my voice. I should’ve known better. Violet might have also been the sunny sister, but she had a radar for emotional earthquakes.
“You okay?” she asked gently.
I shrugged, pouring myself a glass and trying to act like my heart hadn’t been trampled by the world’s sexiest temporary guest just thirty minutes ago.
“Fine. Just didn’t sleep great.”
That was technically true.
I also didn’t breathe great orthink straightthanks to the man upstairs with the broody eyes and excellent shoulders who kissed me like I was a lighthouse in a storm and then backed away like he’d mistaken me for dangerous rocks.
Violet slid the tray into the oven and turned to face me fully, leaning on the counter.
“Want to talk about it?”
I leaned back against the opposite counter, arms crossed. “Not really.”
“Is this about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumble?”
I snorted. “Maybe.”
Violet tilted her head. “Did something happen?”
I hesitated.
A thousand things had happened. All of them fast. All of them intense. All of them wrapped up in this complicated ache I hadn’t quite untangled.
I didn’t want to tell Violet about the kiss, or the truck bed, or the way Ben said hecouldn’tdo dinner tonight like it was something casual. Like it hadn’t unsteadied me in a way I hadn’t expected.
But she was watching me with that patient, loving gaze, and the words slipped out before I could stop them.
