a problem.
A growing problem.
I cleared my throat. “So now what?”
“Now . . .” He sighed and looked around. “We pray that our cells start working, and I get you out of here as soon as possible.”
I scowled. “A little injury isn’t going to get me out of your hair. Unbelievable!” I started to move away from him when he gently pulled my body down. I had no choice but to follow since I was weaker than I expected.
“Listen.” He tilted my chin up gently. “I found you passed out in the snow, you have frostbite on your hands, and this is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to carry on a normal conversation where you don’t call me the wrong name.”
“What?”
“Not important,” he said quickly. “The point is, you need medical attention I can’t give you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if—” He stopped talking, his throat moving in a swallowing motion as he sighed. “You need a doctor. And lucky me, I had some of the best in the city. I’ll take you in, and we’ll assess the damage.”
“And then what?” I whispered. “You come back here, and I lose the cabin for good?”
“Anyone ever told you you’re stubborn as hell?”
“It’s part of my charm.” I blinked my eyelashes at him, thinking it was sexy when it was probably so slow and awkward that it looked like I was inebriated.
“Uh-huh.” He licked his full lips. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it, and do you really want to come back up here alone for thirty whole days?”
“You don’t understand.” Panic set in. “I couldn’t do this at home, couldn’t get the words out—” Damn it, I felt weak. “I thought being in the one place . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Rich-girl problems?” He smirked.
“Really?”
“Sorry,” he quipped. “Old habits . . . I’m not the most trusting person on the planet.”
“Yeah, well, waking up to a world very much changed probably does that to someone . . .”
He was silent and then he whispered, “It really does.”
“I need to come back.” I tried again. “I promised him and the publisher that gave me an advance that I’d write our story.”
His interest seemed piqued as he tilted his head and pulled my body tighter against his. I couldn’t think clearly when he was that close, when I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “I bet that’s hard.”
“Why would you say that?” I said defensively.
His eyes softened. “Because the story has to end, and you’ll have to type the final words that nobody wants to repeat let alone release into the universe . . . The End. You may as well be typing The End of Us, The End of Love, The End of Everything. I don’t envy you that, not one bit.”
He spoke like he knew of loss. Was he talking about his fiancée? No, there was genuine hurt in his eyes right along with fear and anxiety. It was like looking into a mirror.
I stared at the fur blanket surrounding us. “How about those pancakes?”
“Almost forgot.” His smile was forced. “Stay by the fire and I’ll be just a minute. Any requests?”
“I’m shocked you can even cook,” I teased.
“I can’t.” He let out a laugh. “So if they taste like shit, eat them anyway and keep my pride intact, yeah?”
I gulped because when he stood to his full height, the fur blanket loosened from my body and pooled around his legs. I sucked in a breath and tried not to look affected, but he was everything I didn’t realize I’d been missing in a man.
I wanted to hate him for pointing it out without realizing.
He was healthy.
So healthy.
Strong.
Virile.
With thick legs and corded muscles around his midsection.
Even his color screamed health.
I locked eyes with him and nodded. “I’m starving. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Hmm.” He crossed his arms and then gave me a view of his ass as he quickly grabbed a pair of sweats lying across the couch and pulled them on.
I would never admit I was disappointed.
Just like I wouldn’t admit that I felt guilty because I stared.
Guilty that I found him attractive.
Guilty that my heart was beating so wildly against my chest.
Guilty that Noah’s wasn’t.
Guilty that Julian was right.
I didn’t want to type the words.
The End.
And a part of me worried . . . I never would.
Chapter Ten
JULIAN
I didn’t show any outward reaction, when