Page 25 of Whispers in the Dark
But as I open the door, the sight before me has me stilling.
“Hi.” Alina displays a tiny smile as she folds her arms around herself. “Can… Can I come inside?” Looking behind her, I see her shitty piece of metal on wheels and want to curse the fact that she risked driving it here during a storm to see me.
I open the door wider, taking a step back. Her familiar fruity scent—maybe peaches or possibly pears—caresses my nose as she walks past me, stopping a few feet inside.
She looks cold.
No, she looks fucking freezing.
My eyes drift to her trembling gloveless fingers as she fumbles with the zipper of her jacket.
“The heater in my car died on the way over here.” She laughs softly. “I think my fingers are a little frozen.”
Of course it fucking did.
I can only bear to handle watching her struggle with the material for a second before I step toward her and reach out, carefully pulling on the zipper and removing her jacket from her shoulders before hanging it on the hook by the door.
She begins to rub her hands together, and without hesitation, I take them between my own, easily covering her icy, slender fingers. I gently rub back and forth, then bring them to my lips and blow warm air over her soft skin. Our eyes meet, and I can see her take a deep breath, her plush lips parting on a slight exhale.
Once I’m satisfied that she won’t lose a finger to frostbite, I drop her hands and gesture for her to walk ahead of me into theliving room. Moving my jacket, I direct her to take a seat in my favorite chair so that she’s closest to the fire. She does so without question and accepts the blanket I hand her.
“Thank you,” she says, a tint of pink growing across her cheeks. I assume it’s from the warmth of the flames.
I sit in the chair across from her and lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. I watch as she anxiously bites her bottom lip. She smooths the blanket over her legs with careful strokes, her eyes avoiding mine.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this nervous before.
Do I make her nervous?
“I was hoping we could…” She stops speaking, her head turning to the side toward the kitchen. “Are you cooking dinner?”
I nod.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She quickly gets up, shaking her head. “I should have texted you first. I didn’t realize the time. I guess my head’s just been in a bit of a fog, but I should go so you can—”
She takes two steps in the direction of the front door, and my fingers snatch her wrist in a gentle but firm hold. There’s no way she’s driving in this weather right now. I slant my eyes toward the seat, indicating for her to sit.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, and she cautiously returns to her seat. She inhales, closing her eyes for only a moment. “Steak and potatoes?”
One corner of my lips curves up as I nod again.
She smiles. “My dad’s favorite meal. He always says steak should be its own food group.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and type out,Smart man.
She leans back in the chair, appearing more relaxed than she did two minutes ago. “My dad used to love living on the estate. He said it was where he felt most at home.”
He’s welcome here, anytime.
“You guys were always so good to him. Always treated both of us like family.”
You are.
She gazes at the fire, remaining silent for a minute or two before quietly asking, “Why would you want to marry me?” She looks at me, her brows knitted together as if the idea is preposterous. Too outlandish even to be taken seriously.
I rub my hand across my jaw, taking a moment before typing,You said you need help. I want to help you.
