Page 73 of A Violet Obsession

“That’s one way of describing it.” But his mouth pulls higher, and the lightness of his expression makes my stomach swirl.

I turn back to the snow. “We should go out there, take a walk, build a snowman… Oh! We could have a snowball fight.”

“I’d destroy you.”

“Pfft. I may not have secret-agent level skills, but I’m scrappy.”

His smirk widens into a grin, and the small change does something crazy in my chest. I sway toward him, and his gaze drops to my mouth, his grin falling away until Hera, apparently refusing to be excluded from what I’d hoped was going to be a romantic moment, winds herself around his ankles, chirping loudly.

He looks down. “No.”

She meows.

“I said no.”

She presses her whole body along his shin, then gazes up at him with naked adoration.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

His eyes cut to me. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He crouches and picks her up, scratching her behind her ears. Finn is clearly trying to pretend he doesn’t like it, but when Hera purrs and lifts her head for chin scratches, Finn ups his effort.

Is this how single moms feel about guys who are sweet to their kids?

With a gruff, “Enough.” He puts her on the floor. “If you’ll make the coffee, I’m going to go check the trail cams and see if any came down in the storm.”

I gesture at the coffee pot. “No power.”

“I’ll build a fire, and you can use the oven grate over it to boil the water.”

I look at him dubiously, but he’s already crouching at the hearth, clearing the old ash in quick, economical movements. He builds the fire precisely, the way he does everything, and only minutes later the flames are catching the kindling.

It should not be attractive. But between the wood chopping and the fire, I’ve unlocked a whole new fantasy bank starring Finn.

He carries the oven rack to the fireplace and sets it over the log cradle he built, nudging it until it’s level above the flames. “Put a pot of water on this. It’ll be stable. You know how to boil water, right?”

My eyes narrow. “I’m not completely helpless. I just live in the city.”

“No one said completely.” He smirks as he shrugs into his coat, pulls a black knit hat down over his rumpled hair, and settles his glasses back on. The combination makes him somehow look more dangerous and more adorable all at once.

I have to find a way to make him agree.

“I won’t be long,” he says. “Lock the door behind me, and stay back from the windows.”

He steps toward the door.

“Be careful.”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes move over my face, slower this time, and whatever he finds there causes a new expression, one warm enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

“After coffee, maybe we’ll go for that walk.”

He opens the door, and the sharp cold rushes in. Stepping out onto the porch, his boots sink past their soles, and he pulls the door shut behind him.

I lock it immediately and stand to watch Finn cross the porch and then the clearing. He pauses once and scans left to right with a stillness that lifts the hair along my arms—reminding me there is a psychotic billionaire hunting me.