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“Quinn!”
I stopped talking.
He took a deep breath and looked at me, and his jaw twitched. “I like you. A lot. More than I fucking should.”
Oh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I swallowed. “You—you mean, like…”
“I have feelings for you,” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto mine. “And I have so much fucking fun with you, and I respect your position and your feelings but I don’t know if we can keep spending this much time together outside of the grotto.”
I looked down at my hands. If I thought there was a lump in my throat before, I was mistaken.
This was the lump. I felt like I was going to choke on it.
“I think I should go.” He took a step back and turned, retrieving his scarf from the hooks by the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Quinn.”
I opened my mouth to stop him, but nothing came out, and he left.
Shut the door behind him.
Got in his truck.
Drove away.
And I didn’t move at all.
He had feelings for me.
I closed my eyes and put the ladle on the counter, then dropped to a chair. What was I doing with my life? I’d been so determined to protect myself that I hadn’t considered the fact he might have felt the same.
I really hadn’t thought about it. It had never crossed my mind.
I couldn’t leave this conversation. I knew that much. He’d been honest with me, and I had to do the same. We weren’t awkward little teenagers anymore, and we’d had enough issues with miscommunication in the past.
I wasn’t going to do that again.
Nothing would or could come of our feelings for one another, but it didn’t mean things had to be left unsaid.
I grabbed my keys, phone, and threw on my coat and hat, then ran out of the house and into my truck. I reversed up and drove away from the farm. Snow started to fall, and my wipers kicked into action to wipe the flakes away.
It didn’t take me long to get to his farm, and my heart pounded the entire way. Feelings, nerves, excitement… I couldn’t tell what the culprit of the pounding was, but I also wasn’t sure it mattered.
I turned onto the dirt track toward the cottage and didn’t even bother parking up properly. His truck was under the trees, so he was definitely here, and I scrambled out of mine and slammed the door shut.
“Quinn? What are you doing here?” Nicholas appeared around the side of the porch, carrying the firewood basket. “I just—”
I held up my hands to shush him. “I like you,” I said quickly. “A lot, Nicholas, okay? I like you a lot.”
He stopped.
“But you’re leaving after the holidays. No matter how many times you refuse to talk about it, you are. You’re leaving. And I know it wasn’t your fault, but the last time you left me, you really, really hurt me.” I pressed my hands against my stomach. “That’s why I can’t do this. We can’t do this. It doesn’t lead anywhere good.”
He stared at me without saying a word.
I took a step back and slowly exhaled. “So you’re right. We do need to stop spending so much time together. Just the grotto, and Christmas day like we offered. That’s still on the table. I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.” I glanced down. “Other than that… We can’t.” I backed up a few spaces. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. At the grotto.”
I turned around, ducking my head, and hurried to the driver’s side. A clunk came from the porch, followed by the sound of crunching snow, and I looked up just in time to see Nicholas rushing toward me.
He grabbed my face, pushing me until my back hit the side of the truck, and pressed his lips against mine. It was harsh and full, yet it said so much in a single touch. I lifted my hands and laid them over his, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.
He tilted my head back and softened the kiss, drawing back only the tiniest amount of pressure. It morphed into a real kiss, one that was soft and slow and easy, that touched every single part of me with its realism.
“You,” he whispered against my mouth. “Have just made a terrible mistake.”
“I know.”
Nicholas pulled back and met my eyes. “I left it alone because I believed you when you said you weren’t interested. I didn’t push it because of that, Quinn, but now I know the truth…”
“We can’t.”
“We shouldn’t,” he said. “You’re right. But I don’t think I can let you go now.”
“You’re going to have to. Nothing good will come from this.”
He pressed his ice-cold thumb over my lips to stop me. “I’m not letting you go. Not now I know you want this as much as I do.”
