This is more challenging. I awkwardly extend my arm along the back of the couch.
She sighs dramatically. "Not like you're afraid I'll bite. Like this." She scoots closer, fitting herself against my side, pulling my arm around her shoulders.
The scent of her shampoo fills my senses. Something floral and citrusy. Her body is soft and warm against mine.
"See? Natural," she says, though there's a slight tremor in her voice that suggests she's not as unaffected as she pretends.
"Natural," I echo, my own voice rougher than normal.
We stay like that, watching the snow fall. My body gradually relaxes into the unfamiliar contact. It's been so long since I've held someone like this. Years, probably.
"Your heart is racing," she says quietly.
"It's not."
"It is. I can feel it." She places her palm against my chest, directly over my heart. "Right here."
Her touch burns through my shirt. Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then back up. Time seems to stretch and compress simultaneously.
I find myself leaning forward, drawn by some invisible force. She tilts her face up, lips parting slightly. We're inches apart, close enough that I can feel her breath on my face.
A log shifts in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. The sound breaks the spell. I pull back abruptly, standing up from the couch.
"It's late," I say, my voice a strangled approximation of normal. "I should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow."
Jennifer blinks, looking dazed. "Right. Yes. Sleep. Good idea."
I gather the dinner dishes, needing something to do with my hands. "Bathroom's stocked with everything you should need. Extra blankets in the closet if you get cold."
"Thanks." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, not quite meeting my eyes. "For dinner. And... everything."
"No problem." I retreat to the kitchen, focusing on rinsing plates rather than the lingering warmth of her body against mine. The phantom sensation of her hand on my chest. The way her eyes darkened when she looked at my mouth.
This is a business arrangement, I remind myself harshly. Nothing more. In two weeks, she'll take her money and go back to her life. I'll return to my solitude. That's the plan.
So why does the thought sit like a stone in my gut?
When I return to the living room, Jennifer has gone upstairs to the master bedroom. My bedroom, now hers. I make up the couch with sheets and blankets, punching the pillow perhaps harder than necessary.
Outside, the snow continues to fall, blanketing the mountains in pristine white. Inside, my carefully constructed walls begin to crack, one Jennifer Walsh shaped fissure at a time.
CHAPTER FOUR
JEN
Iwake up disoriented before the events of last night flood back. Dinner by the fireplace. Practicing "couple behavior." The almost kiss that has my stomach doing gymnastics even now. The way Jared's eyes darkened right before he pulled away, leaving me breathless and confused.
"Get it together, Jen," I mutter to myself, pressing cool palms to my warm cheeks.
The bedroom is massive, dominated by a king sized bed with a simple but elegant wooden frame that looks handmade. The sheets are expensive, high thread count cotton that feels amazing against my skin. Not what I expected from a mountain hermit.
The clock reads 8:47 AM. Early for me, but I smell coffee brewing downstairs. Motivation to face the day and my fake husband.
I take extra time with my appearance, which I tell myself is professional commitment to my role as loving wife, not because I want to see Jared's eyes widen like they did yesterday. I choose leggings and an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder.Comfortable but cute. I run my fingers through my curls, apply tinted lip balm, and head downstairs.
Jared stands at the kitchen island reading something on his tablet, a steaming mug beside him. He's freshly showered, hair still damp at the temples, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. My mouth goes inexplicably dry.
"Morning," I say, making my way to the coffee pot.
