She’d told herself repeatedly that she’d leave the moment the snow stopped, but she’d also been watching Gale on TV, and even on Mute, Miriam’s plan was becoming the stuff of fiction.
“Do you at least have condoms?” Kris had asked.
At which point, Miriam said goodbye and ended the call. Why would she have condoms? She’d planned on attending a family weekend as a happy single, not getting naked with the mayor of Dallas.
That...shouldn’t sound as inviting as it did.
The snow swirled outside the wide windows and her vision blurred at the edges. She really was stuck here.
“Last chance.” A velvet voice smoothed over her shoulder.
She blinked the winter wonderland into focus and turned to find an offered plate with a single slice of sweet potato pie in the middle.
Chase held up a shiny, tined instrument. “I brought you a clean fork.”
“Did you like it?” She inhaled, catching some of his sandalwood-and-spice smell in her nostrils.
“Exquisite.”
What a Chase Ferguson word. He’d always had a formal edge alongside the rough-and-tumble. Then she’d met his parents and figured out why. He was practically royalty—not that they had royalty in the United States but she imagined billionaires as their own sort of royalty.
“If you liked it so much, why offer me your last piece?”
“The gentlemanly thing to do would’ve been to offer you the first piece, Mimi. Who the hell have you been dating for the last ten years?”
“You don’t want to know,” she said around a low chuckle. For a split second—maybe even half a second—she understood why her sister warned her against falling into bed with him again. Damn, he was charming.
“Share it with you?” She accepted the fork, noticing his fork pressed into his other palm.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Just like that, they were coexisting in a moment of amicability.
“Let’s sit.” He took his seat in the middle of the plush walnut-colored leather sofa, forcing her to take the seat next to him. Her leg brushed his and warmth seeped through her jeans.
She ignored the nervous skip of her heart and ate a forkful of pie. “Not bad for my first time.”
“You nailed it,” he told her, taking a bite himself.
“Why are you here in Bigfork?”
He finished chewing before answering. And when he did, he leaned a hairbreadth closer to her.
“I suppose you’re looking for a bigger answer than vacation.”
She let her silence be her “Yes.”
“It was already scheduled when your photo crossed my desk. If that article goes live and the press finds out I’m in the same city as you, it’ll be a circus.”
“But you didn’t reschedule your trip.”
He ate another bite of pie. “I don’t make decisions based on what might happen.”
Didn’t she know that too well? He hadn’t taken the chance on her based on “what might happen” either.
Her gaze snagged on her suitcase standing in the mouth of the hallway.
“I guess this situation would look bad.”
“Not bad.” He offered her the plate holding the last bite. “But definitely...conspicuous. I don’t have anything to hide from the press. Do you?”