Page 43 of Snowed In with Benefits

“So you just, what, swallowed those feelings?”

I shrug, fighting a lump in my throat. “I guess. I kept telling myself that I should be grateful, that everybody wants a Prince Charming and I had one. I would never have to work again. Isn’t that great? Isn’t that wonderful?”

“And you managed to convince yourself of all that? Really?”

I laugh bitterly. “That’s not all I convinced myself of. I convinced myself that I could be satisfied with it. That I could be the perfect wife, and be happy about it. I convinced myself that I could be happy with a life that never lit me up, with sex that never made me come.”

Hunter frowns. “Can I tell you something?”

Too much information? That’s valid. “Sure.”

“Preston? He’s not perfect. Not to be crude, but fuck that guy.”

That makes me laugh, but Hunter’s face is serious. Softening, but serious.

“You know what?” he asks.

“What?”

His eyes glow behind his glasses as he leans forward, dropping his voice like he’s telling me a secret. “You deserve to have your life lit up.”

My heart shudders at that. I can’t remember the last time someone wanted me to put my feelings first, the last time someone told me I deserved anything good. He’s so earnest in this moment, his eyes burning behind his glasses, his mouth set in a small smile, the way he’s leaning forward to make sure I know he’s talking directly to me.

Before I can even think to stop myself, I lean forward and kiss him.

17

JOSIE

I break the kiss in a panic. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—I don’t want you to think I—oh no, what am I doing? I can’t, I shouldn’t, I just ended—the wedding, I was just about to get married and now—it’s too soon, isn’t it? It’s too soon, it’s too much, I’m too much, I’m sorry, I⁠—”

“Josie.”

I stop and gulp, looking at him, expecting… I don’t know what I’m expecting, but it’s not this. He’s not smiling, he’s not trying to charm me. He looks deadly serious and my heart sinks even lower. He reaches out and touches my face, tilting it up toward his.

“You aren’t too much.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s a fact of the universe, like gravity or weather. The rambling scramble in my brain doesn’t slow down—it stops. Just stops. Mid-sentence, mid-spiral, mid-catastrophe. I stare at him.

Because no one has ever said that to me before. Not like that. Preston would have waited for me to finish spiraling, then gently suggested I was overreacting. My mother would have agreed—too much, always too much, Josie, you feel too much, you want too much, you take up too much space. I’ve spent my whole life apologizing for the size of my own feelings, and this man I barely know just looked at me like the apology was the crazy part.

I search his face for the catch. The polite redirect. The careful management of my emotions that I’ve been trained to expect from people who say they love me. But there’s nothing careful about the way Hunter is looking at me. His earnest eyes, his sleep-tossed hair, his glasses, his mouth. He means it. He really means it. Something shifts under his expression, something I can’t define, something that makes me feel safe in this moment with him. Not managed. Not handled. Safe.

“Can I tell you something?”

I nod. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and it picks my heart up off the ground and gives it wings.

“You were brave to walk away. Nobody deserves to be stuck with something that feels bland and shitty for the rest of their life.”

“I didn’t walk away,” I point out with a sigh. “I ran.”

“You walked fast,” he says with a little quirk of his mouth that’s almost a smile. His expression turns serious again and he moves his hand slightly, just enough to cup my head, his thumb stroking my earlobe. Sparks ignite under my skin and I stare at him, mesmerized.

“Do you want something that isn’t bland? Do you want to experience something new?” He leans forward, his breath tickling my lower lip. “Is that why you kissed me, Goldilocks?”

My heart is hammering in my chest now. His questions explain everything. It wasn’t impulsive. It was honest. Maybe the first honest thing I’ve done since I left the altar in shambles.

“Yes,” I murmur.