If it were anyone else, I would keep on running, but I love Hannah, wouldn’t even have a career without her, so I skid to a stop and do my best to smile. “Hannah! I wasn’t sure you would be here.”
She shrugs, adjusting the strap of her emerald-green knee-length dress. Hannah could have been a supermodel if she hadn’t gone into publishing, tall and lithe with pale skin and waves of shiny dark hair cascading down her back. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but Gina had an extra bed in her room, so I figured why not.” Her dark brown eyes see right through me and my fake smile. “That was a great speech you made up there.”
I grit my teeth. “Thanks. It was an honor to be asked.”
She leans in close, though no one in the crowded room is paying any attention to us. The dance floor has opened, and if the “dancing” taking place there is any indication, the cocktails are really kicking in. “I know how hard thatmust have been for you, but I promise, it will be worth it. When I take your next book to the team, even the higher-ups will know who you are now, have a face to go with the name.”
I nod, not sure I can manage to make words form in my overwhelmed brain at the moment.
“Assuming you are going to have a new book to show me soon?”
I swallow the self-doubt. “Of course. I’m actually working on something right now that I think is going to be fantastic.” It’s only a half lie.
Her grin brightens her whole face. “Amazing! I can’t wait to read it!” She squeezes my arm. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast, and you can tell me about it?”
“Sure thing.” I check behind me, relieved to see Nick still tied up with the hobnobbers. I spot several other authors I’ve met and established relationships with over the years, people I actually want to reconnect with, but most of them are at the bar or on the dance floor, the opposite direction from where I need to be. I offer Hannah the biggest smile I can manage. “I’ve got to go check into my room, but I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow!”
I know I will now be avoiding breakfast in the lobby, not because I don’t love Hannah, but because my manuscript is nowhere near ready for her. And given how hard the writing has been over the past couple of days, I’m no longer feeling so confident in my idea.
But that’s a problem for later.
After collecting my bag from the check-in table where I stashed it upon arrival, I stride through the front doorsof the barn, only to be blasted in the face with freezing cold air and a flurry of white. Somewhere between me arriving at the inn and walking through these doors, the snow really started coming down. The entire acreage of the property is blanketed in white, the kind of snow that’s thick, the kind of snow that sticks. I’ve only been inside for a couple of hours. I don’t know how the skies managed to dump so much powder down in such a short period of time, but I don’t pause to think about it too much.
Even my winter coat isn’t enough to block out the chill, and I hunker down into it as best I can. The wind is biting, stinging my cheeks and sending snow fluttering into my eyeballs. I want to check my progress, see how much farther I have to walk before I reach the cozy warmth of the lobby, but that would require raising my head and it’s not worth the cost.
I hoist my weekend bag farther on my shoulder, the weight of it combined with the wind knocking me off balance.
Then the weight of it fully disappears, and I spin around.
Nick’s got my bag, resting it on top of his wheelie suitcase, though he’s not having much luck with the wheels on the snow-covered path.
“I can carry my own bag!” I shout at him, fighting to be heard over the wind.
“I got it!” he yells back, gesturing for me to keep walking.
I do keep walking, because I want to get out of this weather more than I want to be right, but I don’t let him know that. “It’s incredibly misogynistic to imply that I’m not strong enough to carry my own bag, you know.”
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I know you’re perfectly capable of carrying your own bag, I’m just trying to get both of us out of the snow as fast as possible.”
“I don’t need you to wait for me. I know how to walk.”
“Jesus Christ, Jess, I know you know how to walk. It’s too damn cold to fight with you right now, so just let me do this, please.”
I really hate it when Nick Matthews is right, but it really is too cold to fight. So I trudge along behind him, walking in the path made by his suitcase.
We finally make it to the lobby, and I shiver as the heat begins to seep into my bones. We pause for a minute in the entryway, and I shake the snow from my coat and my hair, letting it fall onto the black no-slip mat that’s been set up for just this purpose.
“I’ll take my bag back now.” I hold out my hand expectantly.
Nick hands me my bag, but when I reach for it, he doesn’t let go, using the movement to pull me closer. His hand reaches out, wiping a few errant snowflakes from my hair. His fingers drift down, swiping gently at my skin, clearing me of any stray bits of ice and snow.
And it has zero effect on me, the way he so carefully brushes his fingers against my cheek. And that’s definitely not any sort of zing rushing through me.
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, shaking my bag free from his grip and pulling it protectively to my chest. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Laterturns out to be a mere five seconds as we bothturn for the check-in desk. Both of the clerks working behind the counter look a little frazzled, a little harried, but I guess that’s to be expected with the sudden onslaught of the storm during a big event.
