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68
TAYLOR
“As loath as I am to inflate your ego any further, I have to admit: you cook an amazing meal, Mr. Zakharov.” I set my fork down with another sigh of contentment, the latest in an evening full of them.
He inclines his head in thanks as he collects my plate and carries the dirty dishes to the sink. “And to think, you haven’t even tried the chocolate mousse yet.”
“Stop.”
“I’m not joking.”
“I will literally explode if you make me eat a single bite of dessert, Ilarion. I’m serious.”
He winks. “So am I.”
My mouth is still zinging with the taste of butter-poached elk and wild rice. “How about we go for a walk before dessert?” I suggest. “I kinda wanna see the mountains at night.”
I expect him to tell me it’ll be too cold for a walk, but instead, he says with a chuckle, “You might want to put on some pants first.”
I glance down at my bare thighs and remember that I’m both naked from the waist down and sinfully wet from how unexpectedly hot it was to watch Ilarion cook.Those hands—my goodness. I’d call them panty-droppers, but I hadn’t even bothered to put any on.
Once we’re both fully dressed, we step out. He doesn’t take my hand as we leave the cabin, but I don’t mind. It’s enough to see it twitching by his side like it’s taking everything he has to resist the impulse.
A small footpath leads away from the cabin and into the dark woods. But as dark as it is amongst the trees, the sky is unbelievably bright. The stars are sprawled out above us in brilliant constellations, and the moon is perched full and high, bathing everything it touches in silver.
I breathe in the fresh air. I can’t get enough of the stuff. I want to bottle it up and take it with me. “This place is magical.”
“It’s far away from cities and people and bullshit. That’s why.”
I laugh. “You may be right about that.”
We stop at the edge of the cliff that looks down over the lake. I turn to him, an agenda written all over my face.
“Oh, boy,” he says. “Here we go.”
I smirk and punch his arm playfully. “Let’s play a game.”
“Unless it’s a sex game, I’m not interested.”
“Two truths and a lie,” I press. “Come on; it’ll be fun. I’ll go first.” He inclines his head, and I know he’s going to play along. I sidle closer to him. “I won a beauty pageant when I was six. I broke my arm when I was eight. I learned to ride a bike when I was fifteen.”
“You’ve never won a single beauty pageant in your life.”
I punch him again, harder this time. It’s like punching a mountain. “Rude!”
“Well? Am I right?”
“You’re right. I wasn’t six when I won; I was seven.” He raises his eyebrows, and I laugh. “Just kidding. It wasn’t me, actually. Celine was the one who won.”
I’m not sure if mentioning my sister is breaking cabin rules, but how can I not? She’s been such an integral part of my life that there’s no way I can avoid mentioning her altogether. Nor do I want to. The only thing sadder than losing her would be forgetting her. She’s tied up in everything.
She’s part of me.
I’m part of her.
“Why on earth was she entered into a beauty pageant at six?” Ilarion asks incredulously. “I didn’t take your mother for that type.”
“She wasn’t.” I shrug. “It was this random little impromptu thing they set up at a carnival. The people organizing the thing were recruiting people in the crowd, and one of them approached Mom. She thought it would be cute to see Celine in one of the big, puffy dresses, so she said okay. We still have the pictures. Dad looks like the wrong end of a donkey, though. He was so pissed that Mom decided to enter her.”
