Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
I hesitate.
Then exhale. “I was.”
His eyes flare.
“Don’t,” I warn softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you won.”
He doesn’t smile.
“I didn’t win,” he says quietly. “I claimed.”
The word settles deep.
Behind us, the ballroom doors swing open and laughter spills into the hallway. Voices approach. He steps back just enough to look presentable. But his eyes never leave mine.
“Five thousand,” I say lightly, trying to regain control. “You realize Mrs. Dottie is going to expect a very enthusiastic date.”
His mouth curves faintly. “She’ll get one.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
The slow burn between us shifts again. Hotter.
He offers his arm.
“For the record,” he says quietly as we walk back toward the ballroom, “if they try that stunt again next year…”
“Yes?”
“I’m starting at ten.”
My heart does something reckless. The crowd notices us re-enter together. Whispers ignite immediately. The church ladies beam like they just orchestrated world peace. And as Levi’s hand settles possessively at the small of my back for the rest of the night, I realize something terrifying. The fake dating isn’t spiraling out of control.
It already has.
And the way he looked at me when that gavel fell?
That wasn’t charity.
That wasn’t performance.
That was a man who refuses to lose the same woman twice.
Chapter 10
Sadie
The town doesn’t follow us past the treeline.
The second Levi turns his truck off the main road and onto the narrow gravel path that winds toward his cabin, the noise fades. No more ballroom music. No more church ladies clutching pearls. No more whispers about five thousand dollars and hallway kisses.
Just pine trees, dark sky, and the steady hum of his engine.
He doesn’t speak during the drive and neither do I. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s loaded.
His jaw is tight in the glow of the dashboard lights, one hand steady on the wheel, the other flexing occasionally like he’s still replaying the night.
I watch him instead of the road.
“You’re quiet,” I say finally.
“Yeah.”
“Is that dangerous?” I ask.
“Depends.”
He turns onto the final stretch, cabin lights coming into view between the trees. His cabin is modest. Wood siding. A wide porch. Warm light spilling from the windows. The life he built without me is practical but inviting.
He parks next to my car in the driveway and kills the engine, sitting there for a second before stepping out. I follow.
The mountain air is cooler up here. Cleaner. The stars are sharper, like someone punched holes in the sky.
He unlocks the door and gestures me inside.
“You don’t have to stay,” he says evenly.
“I know.” But I walk in anyway.
The cabin smells like cedar and smoke. The living room is quiet, fire already laid in the hearth from earlier in the week. Levi’s space feels solid. Lived-in. Not lonely like I used to imagine when I was away at school.
He drops his keys on the table.
“Hot tub’s on if you want to take a dip,” he says.
I nod, noticing the faint curl of steam rising off the back deck. “You planned ahead?”
“I always do.” A faint smirk touches his mouth.
He disappears down the hall to change. I stand in the living room for a moment, tracing my fingers over the back of his couch, the wooden mantle, the framed photo of him and the firehouse crew.
There’s no evidence of a woman’s touch here. The thought makes something in my chest ache.
He returns a few minutes later in low-slung swim trunks, bare chest covered in a fine dusting of hair. My mouth goes dry. He doesn’t flex or pose. He doesn’t have to.
“You coming?” he asks.
“I don’t have a suit.” I frown.
“Your birthday suit is fine.” His eyes twinkle with the words.
My cheeks heat with the thought of being in such close proximity to him without a stitch of clothing covering me. Anticipation curls low in my belly at the thought.
“Or just your bra and panties works too.”
I nod and slip past him to the bathroom to strip down to my undergarments. When I step out onto the back deck, the steam curls around us like a secret. The mountains stretch dark and endless beyond the railing. The hot tub glows faintly under the stars.
“Everything feels a little bit magical out here tucked away in your little corner of the mountain.”
“That’s why I bought this piece of property, it feels secluded, part of the mountain. A bachelor’s retreat.”
I nod, taking in his words. “Did you think you’d always be a bachelor.”
“After you left, yes.”
I swallow, averting my eyes to the snow that still dusts the top of Devil’s Peak even though we’re well into April.
Levi steps into the hot tub first, lowering himself slowly into the water. I follow and the heat wraps around me instantly, loosening the tension in my shoulders, but tightening everything else. He leans back against the edge, arms spread along the rim, watching me.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I always stare.”
“Subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be.”