For the rest of the night, I observe. I pull back a bit, feeling like an outsider. Everyone is so content. And I’m so . . . not.
It’s almost like watching bacteria grow in a Petri dish through a microscope. I can see it happening. I can understand why it’s happening. I can get close enough to touch it. But I’m still just looking through the lens. Studying.
We’ve all retired to the spacious living room area around a roaring fire, and I’m sitting in an impossibly comfortable armchair when Theo saunters up.
Again.
He’s fucking relentless.
He’s only a few feet away, eyes narrowed in on me, all confident swagger and singular focus. But Willa draws his attention. Her eyes dart momentarily to mine, and I give her a small smile. I like Willa. She’s been a sister to Summer in ways that I never could.
And I think I’ll always love her for that.
“Theo, lady-killer. How goes the hunt these days?”
His eyes stay fixed on mine for a beat, more focused determination than playful nonchalance. Suddenly, I want to know what the hell he was about to say to me. I’ve been avoiding him all night, and Willa is perceptive enough to have noticed. But her timing is all wrong.
“Willa. How are you feeling? Has anyone told you lately that you’re glowing?” He sidesteps the question so effortlessly. So playfully. Even she can’t help but grin and roll her eyes at him.
There is something irresistibly charming about Theo. Something boyish and fun. He’s not jaded yet. Perhaps that’s the appeal of a man whose outlook on life appears to be “glass half full” when I’m a “glass half empty” kinda gal most days.
It’s Cade, the oldest Eaton brother, who stomps up and flops down beside Willa, draping a possessive arm over her shoulders. “Leave it to you to hit on a pregnant woman, Theo.”
Everyone laughs, even Theo. But I see the way the back of his neck stiffens, like the joke had some bite that no one expected. Like he’s forcing himself to hold his head up high when he doesn’t feel like it.
I know because I do that too.
“Jesus, man, she’s carrying your baby and living in your house. What do you need? Your name tattooed on her forehead? I’m just being friendly.”
Rhett walks in now. “Yeah, buddy. I’ve seen just how friendly you can be. I’d go so far as to say you’re known for being friendly.”
Theo smiles and rolls his eyes. “Rich coming from you, Eaton.”
“Hey . . .” Rhett’s hands come up, his beer held in one. “I was Goldilocks. All the porridge was too hot or too cold. Finally found one that was just—”
Summer cuts him off with a feigned look of exasperation on her face. “Please do not finish that sentence. Any analogy that compares me to mushy cereal is just . . . no, Rhett. No.”
“But the maple syrup I like to put in it reminds me of—”
“Rhett Eaton.” My sister’s eyes widen. “Control yourself.”
His lips twist, and his expression drips with sex. It’s borderline inappropriate, but based on Rhett’s past behavior, I already know him to be impulsive and unfiltered.
I blink away, out the big windows and over the snowy farmland.
Snow is still falling.
“I’m sorry.” Theo is standing over me when I glance up. I swear I look behind myself to see if he just said that to me. There’s a deer head with a lot of antlers hanging on the wall.
I point. “Why? Did you kill it?”
His lips lift, and the skin beside his eyes scrunches up just a little bit. “I wasn’t talking to the stag, Winter.”
Other conversations have begun to flow, and attention is no longer on Theo. Instead, it’s just his attention on me. Which is almost stifling.
“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable on the drive here. It wasn’t my intention. Like . . .” His hand swipes through his hair, all tight on the sides and just a bit longer on top. Lending him a sort of sex-mussed quality. “At all.”
I nod but cross my arms like they might shield me from him. “Okay.”
His thick, dark brows pop up on his forehead. “Yeah? Is that like . . . apology accepted?”
“What if it’s not?” I arch one brow at him in challenge. And I almost don’t recognize myself.
Am I flirting with him?
Rob has officially pushed me over the edge. I’m flirting with a younger man at a family gathering, not because I like him, but just because . . . it feels good.
His features go almost somber. “That would be cruel because my self-worth is very tangled up in whether people like me. Being well-liked is my best quality.”
I blink. I almost tell him that is not his best quality, but that seems cruel, even for me.
“I’ll be heartbroken if you don’t like me,” he adds as he drops to a crouch in front of me. Coming to eye level does nothing but increase the intimacy of this conversation.
I roll my eyes. “I thought you wanted me to accept your apology. Now I have to like you too?”
He shrugs, a playful grin making his dimples pop. “They’re basically the same thing.”
I snort. This man. “They are not the same thing.”
The tip of his tongue darts over his bottom lip, and my eyes follow raptly. “Agree to disagree.”
I stick my hand out like we’re making a business transaction, forcing my features into a cool mask. The same one that has served me so well all these years. “I accept your apology,” I say, using the most detached voice I can muster. “But I dislike you.”
He chuckles, and it’s deep and warm, all amused like I’m just a challenge—and not an intimidating one. “I can work with that for now,” is what he responds with before accepting the handshake.
And when our fingertips touch, there’s a flash of electricity again.
But this time it has nothing to do with the dry prairie air.
4
Theo
Mom: You should have come on this cruise. The weather is glorious.
Theo: Do you even understand how weird it is to look for dates together as a family? Confined to a boat? I would throw myself over the railing.
Mom: It seems to me that getting along with the family is a pretty important feature when choosing a boyfriend or girlfriend. Not that I’d know. You never introduce me to anyone.
Theo: I don’t have any girlfriends to introduce you to.
Mom: I think it’s more like you have too many.
I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Winter all night. I feel like I’m watching the Discovery Channel, studying the merging of two packs of hyenas or something. The chatter in the house doesn’t stop, neither does the laughter.
No one is trying to make her uncomfortable. They don’t need to. She does it all on her own.
She watches every movement so closely, and she listens hard, turning over every snippet of conversation in her head. And every time she catches me staring, she looks away so quickly that I’m sure she’s going to have a sore neck tomorrow.
“I think I’m going to head back.”
I saw her working up to this declaration. Fiddling with her fingers anxiously. Leaning forward a bit when there was a lull in the conversation. Her lips would pop open, but then conversation would surge back up and she’d visibly shrink back in her chair.
The remarkable contrasts of this woman, removed and bordering on insecure in one moment, cool and snippy the next. And to think she started off all fucking fiery and flying off the handle.
She must be exhausted.
“Are you okay to drive?” Summer asks, always doting on everyone.
Winter’s gaze darts out the window where snow is still falling.
No.
“Yeah. I’m all good.”
My molars clamp down tightly. She’s not all good. She wasn’t two hours ago, and she won’t have magically become comfortable driving on snowy, dark roads just by eating dinner and having a single glass of wine.
“I can drive you. I’m sure we can get you your car tomorrow.”
She scoffs, rolling out the ice princess routine as she shimmies her shoulders and tips her nose up. “That is entirely unnecessary.”
I give her my best you’re full of shit, sweetheart look from where I’m sitting on the leather couch opposite her.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” I make my face suitably blank.
Her finger squiggles in the air at me as all eyes in the room volley between us. “That one that says you know better than me.”
“In this case, I might.”
Her lips purse, so damn prim. “I guarantee you don’t. I’m a doctor.”
“Oh? Did you take a special winter driving class at med school?”
“Did you at bull riding school?” she snipes with some venom, but I just want to laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Bull riders don’t go to school. We’re lucky if we learn how to tie our shoes and brush our teeth.” I give her a flash of my pearly whites, not caring that everyone is watching us.
“I already know you can’t tie your shoes. The hygiene part doesn’t come as much of a surprise either, if I’m being honest.”
“Flattered you looked long enough to notice my boots weren’t tied. And I’d be happy to prove you wrong about my hygiene since you’re clearly very invested.”