Page 55 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“We were just talking,” Neil said, dropping his arms.

Pen turned to stare at Neil. At the mess of his hair, the bags beneath his eyes, the wary way he glanced between them. With anyone else, she would talk, and she would listen. But not with him.

Not anymore. She didn’t trust herself alone with him. So far, being alone with Neil Storm had done more harm than good.

With a sharp inhale, Pen stared up at Neil. She could feel it still, that same strange buzzing energy between them. It was too like that unexpected moment at the ruins, too like those lingering touches in the turret. And silly little Pen wanted it. God, she wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to—

Breathing hard, Pen whirled around to Laszlo. Her friend raised a brow, lips puckered in thought, eyes asking a question she refused to answer. Pen shook her head, teeth grinding.

“Pen, why don’t you put the bags down?” Laszlo asked, reaching out toward her. “He’s right; we’re snowed in. There’s more than a foot of snow on the ground, and there is no way in hell that van is getting out of here.”

“See, even Laszlo agrees,” Storm said.

“Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Neil,” Laszlo groaned.

“Actually,” she said, raising her voice, and tossing aside the bags carelessly, “I was only going for a walk.”

They stared at her.

“In the snow?” Neil asked slowly, not stepping away.

“Yeah, what he said,” Laszlo echoed, taking two steps toward her.

“I need some fresh air.”

“Please go!” Daniela called from down the hall. “Some of us still have a hangover.”

“Just you!” Laszlo bellowed. Sighing, he rolled his eyes before pulling on his boots and jacket and following Pen outside as she threw open the double doors and hurried down the steps to the driveway.

“Okay, it’s fucking cold,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around her middle. Her teeth chattered as she and Laszlo wandered out into the snow, the fresh powder crunching and compacting beneath her boots.

The cool air was a reprieve, her cheeks flaming, hereverythingflaming. Her hatred was dissolving into an entirely different kind of heat, and Pen didn’t know what to do about it.

Well, she did, but kissing Neil Storm needed to be the last thing on her mind.

“So,” Laszlo drawled, tilting his head at her. “You and Neil, eh?”

She scrunched up her nose. “There’s no ‘me and Neil,’” she said. She squinted up at the sky. “It’s weird, though. I assumed he was an asshole, this guy that didn’t care about anyone but himself, and yet…”

“Not an asshole?” Laszlo offered after a beat of silence.

“Not really, although he seems a bit rusty on human contactand all that. But just when I think we’re getting along, he does something weird.”

“Like get all cozy with you?” She shot him a bewildered look, and Laszlo laughed. “What? Everyone sees it. And by everyone, I mean Daniela and me. Hate is a strong emotion, and so is—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Laszlo shrugged, grinning. “Listen, I know you both really well. And I know it’s been rocky between you, but isn’t it also good that your relationship is changing? You two have had this animosity toward each other for so long. What’s wrong with change?”

She shivered, the thought sending a trail of familiar fingers down her spine as she turned to the castle. Her attention went to the east tower, to the place where all pretenses, all walls had crumbled down to her feet. Flirting was fun when there was no end game, but a kiss… the honesty.

Pen couldn’t handle that.

Laszlo raised a brow, steering them back down the drive. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it? I mean, come on, the guy’s hot.”

“He’s not hot.” Why was she lying?

“Mm-hmm, like anyone would believe you.” He tapped his chin. “If I recall, you told me at a conference a few years back that ‘Neil Storm has no right looking that good in a tweed jacket.’”