"Mind your business, Kane."
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his expression remains knowing. "Town's offering emergency accommodations at the community center, but you're welcome at my place if you'd prefer."
The community center will be crowded with evacuees and rescue personnel. Micah's cabin, while still on Kane property, would offer more privacy.
"Your place," I decide, following him to his vehicle.
Micah's cabin reflects his personality—enthusiastic bachelor meets craftsman's appreciation for wood. The interior is simpler than his brothers' homes, but every piece of furniture is beautifully made, much of it by his own hands. He offers me the guest room and a much needed shower, then produces a bottle of Iron Vine whiskey, the Kane family's private reserve.
"Figured you could use this after today." He pours two glasses. "Warming up before the next round."
I accept the drink gratefully, the smoky liquid burning a path down my throat. "Next round?"
"Town council meeting tomorrow morning. They're discussing the Christmas festival schedule, and since you've now got a wife, you're officially on the radar for participation."
I nearly choke on my whiskey. "Participation?"
Micah's grin is pure devilment. "Oh yes. Jordyn's already added you and the new Mrs. Wallace to the volunteer list for the tree lighting ceremony. Something about needing strong arms to hang the star."
"Christ."
"Not Christ, but close. Crimson Hollow takes Christmas very seriously." He sips his drink. "Hope your wife likes festivities."
I haven't the faintest idea if Judith likes festivities. Our arrangement never covered seasonal traditions or public appearances at town events. The thought of her being thrust into Crimson Hollow's overzealous Christmas culture seems suddenly daunting.
"She's not actually my wife," I say before I can stop myself. "Not in the traditional sense."
Micah doesn't seem surprised. "Figured as much. The timing with your grandfather's will was too convenient."
"It's temporary. Ends December 26th."
"The day after Christmas." He considers this. "Interesting deadline."
I don't elaborate, and he doesn't push. That's what I've always appreciated about Micah Kane. He understands boundaries, probably because he maintains so many of his own.
"Whatever your arrangement, you might want to warn her about what she's in for." He tops off my glass. "This town doesn't do anything by halves, especially during the holidays."
Later, in the spare bedroom, I lie awake listening to the new storm's arrival. Wind howls around the eaves, carrying the first wave of snow against the windows. My thoughts keep returning to Judith, alone in my cabin. Is she warm enough? Did she addwood to the fire as instructed? Is she lying awake too, thinking about what she discovered?
About me?
The questions plague me, as persistent as the storm outside. I try to remind myself that our arrangement is business, nothing more. Her presence in my home is temporary, a means to an end for both of us. The fact that she discovered my playroom doesn't change anything.
Except it does. It changes everything. Because now she knows something fundamental about me, something I keep private from most of the world. And her reaction—the curiosity in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks, the way she didn't run when given the opportunity—suggests possibilities I hadn't allowed myself to consider.
Possibilities that have no place in our temporary arrangement.
I roll onto my side, forcing my mind toward practical matters. Tomorrow I need to navigate town politics, check the rescue equipment, and figure out when I can safely return to the mountain. I should be focused on these tangible tasks, not on the unanswerable questions surrounding my temporary wife.
But as I ease into sleep, it's Judith's face I see. Her dark eyes widening in discovery. Her full lips parting in surprise. Her slender fingers trailing over instruments designed to bring both pain and pleasure.
And the question she didn't get to answer. Have you ever submitted to anyone, Judith?
CHAPTER SIX
JUDITH
Iwake to complete darkness and bone-deep cold. The fire must have died hours ago, and the generator with it. Even buried under three blankets, I can see my breath clouding in the frigid air. The storm howls outside, a living beast clawing at the cabin.
