the couch, and I hand her a bowl. Then I cover her legs with the comforter. Her eyes follow me as I pick up my bowl and settle next to her, keeping the comforter only over her.
Holding up my fork, I nod for her to pick up hers. “Bon appetite,” I state, then tap the metal utensil against hers. She slowly smiles before digging into her pasta. For a second, something warm and strange fills my body, and it isn’t alcohol, and it isn’t hot spaghetti. That genuine grin on her lips is more satisfying than either substance.
We eat with less serious chatter than earlier, and I’m thankful to leave the heavy stuff behind for a bit. Pam tells me more about growing up in a small town and her family, who sounds amazing. Ella’s in love with Ethan’s parents—the Scotts—and I learn more about how the Carters and the Scotts intertwine. As the night wears on, Pam does take another glass of wine while I try to ignore the scotch bottle calling to me. Her body seated closer to mine feels more addicting.
Eventually, her shoulder falls against my arm, and her head lowers to my shoulder.
“Is this the hand holding portion of the evening?” I tease. Pam straightens, returning upright, and I don’t like the distance.
“Too much wine and only pasta to eat today is making me sleepy,” she says around a yawn.
“Why have you only had pasta today?” I’m a fanatic about women and eating after Ella had food issues. I don’t want to even think about Pam doing something crazy like my stepsister used to do.
“My boss demanded I work for him today.”
“In the middle of a snowstorm?” I sarcastically mock.
“In the middle of a snowstorm.” She yawns.
“Jesus, he sounds like an ass.”
“He can be,” she says, but I hear the smile in her voice.
“He doesn’t always mean to be,” I admit.
“He can’t help it,” she teases, and silence falls between us. I’m not hurt by what she said. She’s being honest like I asked, and I can’t seem to help being a dick on occasion. Still, I don’t want to always be the asshole boss.
“Actually,” she says, her tone still low. “He can be really sweet when he wants to be.” My eyes latch onto a glowing candle, the small flame dancing. “He’s even romantic without knowing it.”
I hold back a snort, choosing to reach for her legs instead and hitching them over mine. Straightening the blanket, I cover our leg combination. Pam returns her head to my shoulder, and I seek her fingers.
“Hand holding,” I state, curling my firm fingers with hers. I’m nervous when this isn’t even a real damn date. We’re just trying to stay warm, slipping into sleep after a lazy day during a storm. But there’s nothing more happening here, and I wonder if Pam feels it, too.
Chapter 12
Cheap Date
[Pam]
We’d shifted in the night from sitting upright leaning against one another to lying down on the couch with Jacob’s front to my back. The fire is slowly dying, but my body temperature is a hundred degrees. Jacob’s like a human thermostat set to high, then add the comforter and the extra sweater, and I’m too warm to sleep.
Slowly, I remove his arm from my waist and sit upright. As I’m tugging his thick cable-knit sweater over my head, his hand lands on my thigh. He remains lying behind me in a seated position.
“What are you doing?” His sleep-roughened voice sends a thrill up said thigh, and I shiver despite the heat of my skin.
“I’m too warm.” Holding the sweater on my lap, I fold it.
“I like you in my clothing,” he says, and I recall wearing his tees and sweats while I was sick.
“I still need to return your things,” I remind him, remembering I stole out of his house that fateful morning, taking his soiled clothing with me to wash at my place.
“I’m not worried. I know where you live now,” he teases. “By the way, you’re the worst date. I didn’t even get a good night kiss.”
When I glance at him over my shoulder, his eyes sparkle in the dull firelight. He looks so carefree compared to his normal hard edges. Unable to help myself, I lean down and press a kiss to his lips. Soft. Tender. Sweet. Drawing away, he catches me at the back of my neck with his hand, and he perches up on an elbow. His eyes switch from sparks to flames.
“Lilac.” He breathes my