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I didn’t wait for a response before snatching up Boo’s sweater and walking out, gently easing the door closed behind me, even though all I really wanted to do was slam it. I set Boo on the ground so she could explore the outdoor smells on our short trip back to our own cabin. She immediately took off run-hopping through the snow in pursuit of something or other at the edge of the forest.
“Fine, just go,” I called after her. “Apparently I’m terrible company anyway. Who could blame you?”
After an hour of trying to clean out the smoke smell from what little there was in the cabin, I decided to head down into town to check out what kind of clothing the little hamlet offered.
But I knew it wasn’t really about the clothes. Zoey had been right. I craved personal connection, even more so now that my gorgeous but cold neighbor had proven that not only was I not what he was looking for in a quick fuck, I wasn’t even good enough to be a friend.
I might not need the fuck, but I couldn’t deny that a friend wouldn’t hurt right about now.
Maybe in addition to the clothes, I could pick one of those up in town too.
The thought had me smiling just a bit, but as I searched out my car keys and headed to my car, I couldn’t help but look in the direction of Jake’s cabin.
There was no denying I was a glutton for punishment.
Chapter 4
Jake
“Jake, welcome home.”
The sound of Peter’s voice fell over me like a warm blanket. I’d been busy checking over my shoulder, so I didn’t see him until I was almost on top of him. I practically threw myself into his arms. There were so many things I needed to tell him, but I didn’t know where to start.
“Hey,” Peter said with a laugh as he embraced me, then gently eased me back. His eyes skimmed over me quickly, then he frowned. “Where’s your coat?” he asked. “Did you forget it’s winter here?” he asked with a smile, then he was removing the scarf from around his neck and moving closer to me.
“Peter, I need to talk to you,” I said in a rush, ignoring the brush of his fingers against my neck as he tied the scarf around my throat.
“Okay, well, let’s go inside where it’s warm,” he said, his brown eyes dancing softly as he stepped back and looked me over again. I momentarily forgot everything else but how it felt just to be around him.
“God, I’ve missed you so much,” I heard myself whisper. “I have so much I need to tell you.”
He looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded. “Me too, Jake. Me too. But inside, okay?”
I nodded and looked at the coffee shop. It wasn’t overly busy, so we’d have the privacy we needed. “Okay.”
Peter held my gaze for a moment longer, then let out a sigh and stepped toward me. I was happy to move into his proffered embrace. But before he could wrap his arms around me, I heard a loud popping sound.
And then another.
I was jerked from my thoughts at the sound of an engine revving to life. The beautiful blue scarf was crushed between my fingers so I quickly gentled my hold on it. I glanced out the window and saw a flash of red go down the driveway.
Oz.
Leaving.
Because I’d driven him away.
By being a dick yet again.
I let out a sigh and stared at the scarf in my hands. Then I did something I hadn’t done in a really long time and brought it up to my nose.
But the once-familiar scent of Burberry cologne was long gone.
I forced myself to lower the scarf and return it to my closet. I knew I owed Oz an apology, but I also knew I wouldn’t be going near him again. If I hadn’t already realized how attracted I was to him before, there was definitely no hiding from it now. And attraction was only part of the problem.
My thoughts drifted back to his comments about his dog. There’d been a certain wistfulness in his words, and I’d gotten the impression that he hadn’t just been talking about the ugly little animal.
I didn’t know what to make of the young man.
I glanced around my bedroom and then stepped back into the main room of the cabin. The burst of color, even what little of it there was, stood out like a beacon. Like Oz had left his calling card, but that he’d done it in a way that lingered in more than just a small section of my living space. He clearly liked pretty things, but not necessarily expensive ones. Like his shoes… he’d mentioned the design and not the fact that they’d probably cost a fortune. I wasn’t completely ignorant–I knew who Karl Lagerfeld was. But Oz hadn’t been spouting off about how much he’d spent on those shoes. And he hadn’t talked about his fancy dog because it was one that lots of people probably considered one of those designer pocket pets. My eyes fell on the quilt on the back of my couch and the green pillow that was made out of… holy hell, it was my favorite green shirt–the one I only wore on special occasions. I wanted to laugh because Oz had probably taken one look at it and thought it was just some old piece of clothing I’d never miss.
