Page 71 of Snowed Inn

I wish El was here to help. El would be so much more tactful. I’m like a dinosaur at a tea party—but I’m trying, because Charlotte’s worth it. “Is there . . . someone else you think about?” I finally ask.

“What?” Charlotte’s gaze shoots to mine. She looks alarmed.

My stomach dips. That came out way less subtle than I meant it to.

“I mean . . .” I rush to soften it. “Do you think maybe you or Miller aren’t fully in it?” There. That was smoother . . . right?

“I have no reason to think he’s not committed. In fact, I think he may want to take things to the next level,” she says, her expression tightening with unease.

“Move in together?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah . . .”

“Wait a minute.” I tilt my head like I’ve just been handed a math problem with words. “How long have you been together?”

“Three months?”

Three months? I haven’t even stayed with a guy that long since Trevor, let alone wanted to move in with one. “That seems a little fast.”

“I think so too,” Charlotte says, nodding. “I’ve hinted at six months being the bare minimum.”

“Bare minimum. Like barest of bare minimums.” Perhaps I should approach this in another way. “How is”—I motion widely yet vaguely with my hands—“everything else?”

She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”

Time to toss delicate out the window. “Is the sex good at least?”

She immediately turns bright red. I immediately want to kick myself. That was extra blunt of me. But, if it’s not good, she needs to get out like now. But another thought springs to mind. “You have had sex, haven’t you?”

There is more hand-wringing and even more blushing. “Er . . . I just haven’t felt like the timing was right.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. I need a second to think because I wasn’t expecting this. Not that I’m judging. I’m a live-and-let-live kind of person but just . . . what is the correct advice in this situation, exactly? “Are you, uh, planning to have sex?”

Red-faced, Charlotte nods. “Eventually . . . yeah. I mean . . . of course. Probably.”

My voice climbs an octave. “Probably?”

Charlotte worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know. I know. I mean. It’s weird, right? He seems so great, but I just can’t . . .”

“If you’re not attracted to him, sweetie, there’s no fixing that.” I shrug. I mean some things just need saying.

“That’s just it. I am attracted to him,” she insists.

“But you don’t want to sleep with him?” I cannot help but think about how damn much I want to hop in the sack with Jesse right now, while three days ago I didn’t even like him. Here Charlotte is, claiming to be attracted to Miller and she hasn’t done it yet after three months? Oh, shit. There’s an even more basic question I need to ask. “You have kissed him, though, haven’t you?”

To my infinite relief, she nods.

“How was it?” I know that’s more intrusion, but frankly I just want to get to the bottom of this. It’s like a strange little dating mystery.

“It was . . . good.”

I squint. “That sounds . . . like maybe it’s not exactly lighting fireworks for you. Was it good or okay?”

She seems to think about it for a few seconds. “It was good. It’s good when we kiss.” She’s nodding way too vigorously to be believable.

“So you’ve kissed him more than once?”

“Yes. Many times.” She smiles and nods more.