Page 65 of Double Booked

She was shocked, thinking him the most fearless person she’d ever known. “Fear of what?”

“Losing you, mostly, but also wanting you so bad it hurts.”

She swallowed hard, praying she could get through the rest of this conversation without bursting into tears.

Suddenly, he stood and started pacing across the floor. “It’s crazy, right? We haven’t known each other that long, yet I feel like I’ve known you forever.” He shoved his fingers into his hair. “We live on opposite sides of the country. Everyone knows long-distance relationships don’t work, so why should this be any different? Not to mention that I came here to work, not fall in love.” He stopped pacing and faced her with a panicked expression.

Obviously, he hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too late. Tears were streaming down her face, and she didn’t try to stop them.

Suddenly, he was in front of her, kneeling, his warm hands on her thighs. “Eden, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Then she was smiling and crying, and he gazed at her with confusion.

“What are you sorry for?” she asked.

“For leaving you. For walking away from this.” He gently cupped her face and gazed deeply into her watery eyes.

“You told your dad about me,” she said, still amazed.

He chuckled, the melodious sound soothing to her ears. “That’s what you took from all this?” He dropped his hands to her thighs again.

“You’re falling in love with me?”

“It’s too soon, right?”

It was all so overwhelming. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to walk away from this either.”

He smiled, his relief palpable. “What should we do about the other cabin?”

Looking down, she realized she was still holding the key. “I don’t think we’ll be needing it. Do you?”

“No.” Now, he was absolutely beaming.

“We should probably return this to Angela.” She held up the key.

He snatched it out of her hand and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Later.” Then he stood and held out his hand to her.

She placed her hand in his. “Where are we going?” she asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

He led her to the staircase. “To have some really good make-up sex.”

“We weren’t even arguing,” she teased.

“It still counts.”

She chuckled.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of his bedroom, he pulled her into his arms. She clasped her hands around his neck, and he tipped his forehead down and touched hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She breathed him in, noting the scents of coffee, pine, and fresh mountain air. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“I’ll never walk away from you again,” he vowed.

She briefly wondered if it was a promise he could keep. Then his mouth descended on hers, and all logical thought was lost, as was she. She drifted further away with every kiss, every touch, every sigh. They discarded their clothes piece by piece, the new cabin key falling out of his shirt and clinking against the wood floor.

Then they tumbled onto the bed and worshipped each other with their mouths, hands, and bodies. Afterward, while he was cleaning up, and she was catching her breath, she smiled softly. He’d already kept one promise. It was the best make-up sex she’d ever had.

Twenty-Two