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“Your mom sounds as amazing as ever,” he said softly.
Something in his tone made her glance up. There was a shadow in his eyes, a hollow that grief had carved out. She thought of his parents, his father taken far too soon and his mother a hazy imitation of the woman she had once been.
Her heart ached for him and she wanted to reach out and comfort him.
Snowflakes drifted lazily down and the night was quiet except for the distant sound of a car driving down the street and Kodiak’s soft snuffling as he explored her yard.
She realized abruptly how close they were standing in the narrow mudroom. The faint scent of his soap, clean and subtle, wrapped around her, mixing with the aroma of garlic and tomato still lingering from dinner.
When she looked up, his gaze was already on her.
Time did that strange dance it sometimes used to do with Wes, slowing and sharpening all at once. Everything else fell away. The TV murmuring in the other room, the wind sighing through the eaves, even the cold seeping in from the open door.
Just his eyes, dark and intent. The small muscle ticking in his jaw. The scar she hadn’t noticed before along the edge of his hairline.
He took a half step closer, and her breath caught.
She froze, her hand still on the doorknob. Memories crashed over her in a dizzying rush. The way he used to taste faintly of cinnamon and coffee and heaven. The feel of his hands at her waist, steady and warm. How his arms around her had always held her like she was the most precious, priceless thing in his world.
Her heart thudded an anxious, traitorous rhythm. Did his mouth still taste the same? Would kissing him feel like it always had? Like standing right on the edge of something huge and terrifying and wonderful?
He leaned down, just a fraction, and for one shimmering second, she was sure he was going to kiss her.
Then something shifted in his expression. His jaw tightened, and he stepped back like someone had yanked on an invisible leash.
“We should probably get out of your hair,” he said roughly. “I need to get Pop back to the Shelter Inn.”
The moment shattered, fragmented into a hundred jagged pieces that scattered at their feet.
“Right,” she said, her voice a little too bright.
Her pulse still skittered, and she hated that he could do this to her after all this time, turn her inside out with one almost-kiss.
“Thank you for dinner,” he added, not quite looking at her.
She nodded, fingers tightening on the doorknob. “Of course.”
As she followed him back toward the living room to wake his grandfather, one fierce, simple truth throbbed through her.
She should never have invited him into her house again. Into her life again. Not when every second near him made old wounds ache and reminded her how much she had once wanted a future that would never be hers.
Chapter 13
He was going to have to do something about Kodiak.
Wes frowned at the dog as they drove back from the lumberyard a few days after he and his grandfather had eaten with Hannah and the children.
Shelter Springs unfurled around them in a soft, wintry postcard. Two weeks before Christmas, snow clung to the branches of the tall pines that framed the road and the mountains rose in the distance, their peaks dusted in fresh powder that caught the weak afternoon light.
Downtown, lampposts wore evergreen garlands and red bows, and every other storefront seemed to boast a decorated tree in the window, twinkling with white lights.
In the foreground, Lake Haven gleamed its gorgeous, unearthly blue.
He turned his attention back to the dog. Physically, Kodiak seemed to be improving. The dog still limped and favored the leg that had been cut so badly during the incident, and he was stiff when he first stood up after a long nap. But he no longer yelped when Wes gently cleaned around the healing wound or flexed the joint the way the vet had shown him. The angry swelling had gone down. The stitches were out.
On paper, things were headed the right direction. Mentally, though, Kodi wasn’t the same dog.
He’d always been calm and steady, content to snooze until it was time to work, then laser-focused and eager, every muscle ready. He used to perk up at the jingle of car keys, the sight of his harness, the faintest rustle of the treat bag.
