No.
God, no.
But the smart answer hovered at the edge of her tongue. She looked at him instead. At the way he was clearly holding himself back. At the way he’d still come. At the way he was still waiting for her consent.
Her voice dropped. “You knocked.”
Something flickered in his expression at that. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.”
She stepped closer. Just enough that their chests almost brushed. “Then stop pretending you’re here to be praised for your self-control.”
His hand slid to her waist, slow and testing. “Careful,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because I’m already trying very hard not to carry you back to that bed.”
Heat spiraled through her. “Maybe,” she whispered, fingers curling into his jacket, “I don’t need carrying.”
His eyes darkened. “Oh, I know you don’t.”
The air between them tightened.
“You sure about this?” he asked quietly, not teasing now.
She didn’t hesitate this time. “I was miserable being here without you,” she said. “That feels like a sign.”
His mouth curved slowly. “That’s your reasoning?”
“It’s airtight.”
He leaned down, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. “You’re terrible at being sensible.”
“And you’re terrible at staying away,” she whispered as his hand tightened around her waist.
“Guess we’re even.”
Evie pulled him the rest of the way before taking his hand and leading him to her bedroom. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she said, “No carrying required.”
The low rumble of his laugh made her knees weak, but luckily they didn’t have far to go.
Chapter Seven
Rain hammered steadily against the lodge windows, turning the lake into a sheet of gray and canceling every outdoor plan he had lined up for the day.
No hikes. No trail rides. No excuse to be busy.
Slater sat at his desk in the office up in the lodge, arms crossed, feet up, watching droplets race each other down the glass.
He hated being idle, especially when idle meant thinking.
And all of his thoughts were currently about Evie.
She was in the office down the hall with Milo. The rain had been torrential this morning, with flooding possible on the road leading into town, so they decided to work here today. He’d snuck out of her cabin before the sun was up, but a few hours later, he caught her trying—and failing—to get up to the lodge with a poor excuse of an umbrella that was practically turned inside out from the wind.
“Wait,” he called out, grabbing the heavy-duty umbrella he always kept in his cabin. She’d run up on his porch looking a little like a drowned rat—an adorable drowned rat—and looked at him questioningly. “You need something a little more durable than that little thing.” Then he grabbed one of his parkas and forced her to put it on. It was comically large on her, but it gave her even more protection. “Come on. Let’s get you up to your car.”
“Oh, we’re not going into town,” she told him. “Milo said it would be okay for us to work up at the lodge today. We’re going to have breakfast and then work in his office.”
