Chapter Two

Bones

I turned off the lights in the garage. The darkness settled in, except for the faint glow coming from across the driveway. My gaze drifted toward the dim light that spilled from the large window.

Snow was still in her kitchen.

I didn’t know why I looked, or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to admit it. Snow was… magnetic. It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t one to get tangled up in all that, but there it was. Every day and night, I’d find myself watching her as she bustled around her kitchen, sometimes humming to herself or pausing to sip from a cup. She sometimes looked over here, but it always seemed she was lost in whatever she was doing, unaware that I was watching.

We’d never talked, though everyone in town knew about her. Snow. The town’s best baker, the woman who could whip up a pie that’d make grown men weak. That wasn’t why I knew about her, though. No, that was just a lucky bonus.

I watched her every day.

Hell, she was the reason I’d put in those clear overhead garage doors. I’d told myself it was for visibility so I could keep an eye on the street and see customers before they even got out of their cars. But the truth was, the view that mattered to me wasn’t the street. It was her kitchen, where she was busy right now, just like every other night and day. I leaned against the wall and watched as she moved, slow and easy, her hair twisted up like it always was. A few loose curls fell around her face.

Snow was a big, beautiful woman—no two ways about it. Curvy in all the right places, with those thick thighs that filled out her jeans in a way that made it hard to look away. Her hair was this deep, rich brown, and always piled up in a messy bun like she couldn’t be bothered to fuss over it while she worked. It made her look… real. Like she wasn’t trying too hard, which just made her all the more attractive.

I liked her figure. Hell, I more than liked it. There was something about the softness of her curves and the way her hips swayed when she moved around her kitchen that pulled me in. Most people in town knew her for her baking, but to me, she looked like something I’d want to wrap my arms around and hold onto. More cushion for the pushin’, as they say. And I wasn’t shy about admitting that was just fine by me.

I’d never been one for staring. But with her, it was like I didn’t have a choice.

I was surprised to see her still in the kitchen, though. With Christmas only two weeks away, she must be swamped with orders. I leaned against the window, watching her work for a minute more. Snow was focused, with her head bent over the table and her hands moving smoothly as she rolled out dough like she was made for this.

I finally tore my gaze away, stepped into the house, and let the door shut with a quiet click. I cracked open a beer, the familiar hiss cut through the stillness, and leaned against the counter as I took a long drink.

It had been a year since I’d moved into the house across from hers, and in all that time, I hadn’t said more than two words to her. Not like me at all. In the past, if I saw something—or someone—I wanted, I went after it. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t worry about whether or not it was a good idea. I’d take it, own it. Simple as that.

But with Snow, I’d been dragging my feet, caught up in my own hesitation. She was different. There was something about her that made me pause and made me feel like I needed to be damn sure before I even made a move. Maybe it was because she looked like the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to let go of once you had her—soft and warm, with a smile that could melt the coldest day.

The truth was, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.

For her.

Snow seemed like the kind of woman who’d dig her way under your skin, settle in, and make it impossible to walk away. And I’d been keeping things simple for so long that I wasn’t sure I knew how to handle anything else.

The idea of walking over there and finally saying something crossed my mind. But I held back and let the thought drift, knowing that once I did, there’d be no turning back.

Maybe someday, I thought as I knocked back the rest of the beer. Someday. But tonight, I’d just watch.