Page 78 of Snowed Inn

Maybe too real.

Chapter 28

Twenty minutes later, I’m hiding in an Adirondack chair near a stone firepit behind the inn, bundled in my thickest coat because it’s freezing. I don’t care. I can’t go inside. What if I see Jesse? What if he looks at me like he did last night? What if he—

“Maria?”

I about jump into a snowdrift when I hear his voice.

He’s standing right there, holding a bag of what I assume are freshly baked cookies, looking like some devastatingly handsome Hallmark hero. He’s wearing a chocolate-brown overcoat, charcoal-colored gloves, and instead of a ball cap, he’s got on a beanie with a pom-pom on the top. How he’s managing to make that look hot is a Christmas miracle.

I swallow. God, why does he always have to look so good?

“You feeling okay today?” he asks. His voice is casual, but his eyes? They scan my face like he’s searching for something—like he’s looking for a sign.

Maybe for me to say, Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that kiss too.

I scramble to sit up straighter, trying to pretend I’m totally fine and unaffected. Trying to ignore the way my lips still feel buzzed from his.

“Look,” I say, cutting straight to the chase. “I need to apologize.”

A faint crease forms between his eyes. “For what?”

I stand and take a step closer to him. “For last night. For making you kiss me. It was childish and wrong.”

He tilts his head, amusement flickering across his features. “I don’t do things I don’t want to do, Maria. You didn’t make me.”

God. Why does he have to be like this? All noble and hot.

“Okay, yeah, I get it, but—”

He narrows his eyes on me. “Do you regret it?”

I freeze. My throat closes up.

Do I regret it?

No. Absolutely not.

But I can’t tell him that. Because telling him that means acknowledging how good it was, how electric it felt, how it made me crave more.

This time, he takes a step closer, eyes locked on mine. “Did you enjoy it?”

I exhale sharply and cross my arms over my chest. “I mean, yes, I enjoyed it.”

“Good.” His lips twitch, the hint of a self-satisfied grin peeking through.

“But,” I continue quickly, before I lose my nerve, “it won’t happen again.”

He raises a brow. “What won’t happen again?”

“Us. Kissing.”

“Ah.” He nods, completely unfazed. “So, you’re saying that if I tried to kiss you again, you’d push me away?”

I swallow. “Exactly,” I manage, but my voice is shaky.

“Liar.”