It was freaking cold.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Didn't know it was going to snow.”
A pathetic pillow of coals had died down in the hearth, almost as cold as the room. Stella grabbed some firewood and brought it over while I resurrected what I could from the ashes and tossed some dry kindling on top. Within a few minutes, baby flames crackled around a new, dry log. Stella sat with her back to the fire, eyes bleary with sleep. The tip of her nose appeared to be red.
“Sorry to wake you,” she murmured.
I scoffed. “Yes, I would have much preferred you freeze to death, Stella Marie. How dare you?”
The firelight caught her eyes in a sudden, startled expression that warmed into a smile. Was it because I said her full name? I'd tried to keep it to just Stella as she requested, but there was something easy about the way Stella Marie rolled off my tongue. The goofy grin cut me all the way through the chest as I stared at her, distracted from my intent until a pop startled me back to the moment. With a shake of my head, I turned back to the fire and tossed another log on. Stella shivered next to me while I built it up, huddling close to the warmth.
We sat there in silence, the smell of burnt wood around us, when Atticus’s eerie bark cut through the night. Stella sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes darting to the window. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“He's barking toward the lake,” I murmured, knowing she'd be worried about it being Joshua. “Not the road. Besides, that's a different bark. That's not a person bark. It’s a bit wilder.”
When I stood to peer out the window, there was nothing to see but deep shadows and the occasional flash of a snowflake right next to the window. But the resonance of Atticus's warning, like a low reverb, meant he barked away from us.
“Cougar?” she whispered.
I sincerely hoped not.
“Or he just got twitchy,” I said to play it off. Of course it was the cat. I strained to hear, wondering if the creepy, undeniable sound of a mountain lion interrupted Atticus's deep staccato barks. Nothing that I could tell for certain, nor likely to hear inside. Stella stood and came to my side, a wary glance outside. I wrapped an arm around her, grateful she hadn't gone to her own cabin.
“It's kind of creepy when you can't see anything outside,” she whispered.
I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and she burrowed closer to me, blanket rustling. “Will Justin be okay?”
“The Gladiator? He's probably the one that'll scare the cat off. It'll take one look at him and scamper.”
Atticus had quieted for a moment. I thought about getting on the radio and calling Justin, but didn't want to increase her concern.
“I don't have many winter clothes,” she whispered suddenly, and I laughed. She sounded so small and tired while she stared at the falling snow.
“C'mon, Stella Marie. It's time for you to go back to bed.”
With a little coaxing, and the fire brightening the room again, she let me guide her to the ladder and nudge her upstairs. The attic felt even colder than the basement. The chimney crept through the attic against the far wall, so it would eventually warm up. But the two windows by my bed kept it chilly on winter nights.
My intention was to tuck her in and give her a lingering kiss to sweeten her dreams—and my own—but when she slipped back under the covers and grabbed the front of my shirt before I could back away, my resolve weakened.
“Stay, please?” she asked quietly. “I don't want anything to happen tonight, I just . . . I'm a little scared.”
The plea in her voice shattered me.
“Of course.”
Stella scooted closer to the wall while I stretched out next to her and arranged the covers over both of us. She'd already layered the bed with the extra blankets I'd stacked at the end just in case. How long had she been shivering up here, alone? She hesitated on the sheets next to me, stiff like a board.
I broke the hesitation in the air by pulling her close. With a relieved sigh, she molded her body into mine. I curled my arm around her back to close the space between us and ran the tip of my fingers in a circle on her shoulder. She splayed a hand on my chest, her hair spilling across my shoulder. The light scent of apricot still rose from her skin and curled in my nose.
“Thank you,” she whispered so softly that I wondered for a moment if I'd just imagined it. She tilted her head, tucked her face into my neck, and her breathing evened out moments later.
For the next hour I stared at the ceiling, paralyzed to the same spot. My heart raced as the thought I fell in love with Stella Marie ran through my mind like a busy ticker tape over and over and over again. I didn't try to stop it, because it was true.
And I knew I couldn't tell her.
Not yet.
Because of whatever amazing thing we had going here, I wasn't willing to break with reality. And in reality, women ran away from me all the time.
But not this one.
This one would stay. So I grabbed my phone, logged into my dating app, navigated to my profile, and closed the account with great relish.
Mark Bailey was finally off the market.
And hopefully for good.
21 Stella
“Marcus Aurelis Bailey!”
The sound of a woman
