11. Eva

Eleven

Eva

Later that evening, I find myself once again avoiding the main lodge activities. Emily tried to coax me into joining the poker night some of the players are throwing, but the thought of sitting around a table with Eli staring all night was too much. Instead, I retreat to the library, a cozy space tucked away at the far end of the lodge, hoping for some peace.

The room is all dark wood and overstuffed armchairs, the scent of leather and books wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I curl up in one of the chairs near the fire, clutching a mug of tea and trying to convince myself I’m not hiding.

Which, of course, is exactly when he finds me.

The sound of the door closing makes me glance up, and my heart stumbles when I see Eli standing there, filling the doorway with his broad frame. His shirt sleeves rolled up, and there’s something about the way his eyes lock on mine that makes the already warm room feel stifling.

“You know,” I say, trying for lightness, “you’re starting to feel like my shadow.”

He huffs out a small laugh, stepping further into the room. “You keep running off. Makes me follow.”

“I’m not running. I’m reading.” I lift the book in my lap as proof, even though I haven’t turned a page in twenty minutes.

“Sure you are,” he says, his voice low and teasing. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, towering over the chair. “Mind if I join?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

Still smiling, Eli sinks into the chair across from me, his long legs stretched out. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that dark, smoldering gaze.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he says finally.

“At what?”

“Disappearing.”

I frown, the teasing comeback on my tongue dying before I can say it. “I’m not disappearing. I’m just…”

His lips twitch, but the heat in his eyes tells me he’s not joking.

I sigh, setting the book aside. “What do you want, Eli?”

His smirk fades, replaced by something heavier, more serious. “You.”

The word hangs in the air, simple and undeniable.

I blink at his straightfowardness. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.” His voice is quiet but firm. “I know you’re smart. I know you’re strong. I know you make me laugh when you’re trying to piss me off. And I know that since the second I saw you, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

His words hit me like a freight train, and I can’t decide if I want to laugh, cry, or run.

“Eli…” I shake my head, trying to find the right words. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some challenge you have to best.”

“I know that,” he says, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m not trying to best you, Eva. I’m trying to make you my woman.”

Oh My God.

The fire crackles between us, the only sound in the room as his words sink in.

“You don’t even like people,” I say finally, my voice softer now.

He chuckles. “Most people, no. But you’re different, baby.”

I roll my eyes, though the heat in my cheeks gives me away. “That’s such a line.”

“It’s the truth.”

His honesty unnerves me, the intensity of his gaze stripping away every defense I have.

“You don’t even know what I want,” I whisper.

“Ah, but I do, sweetheart.” Eli leans back slightly, his lips curving into a small, cocky smile. “You want someone who sees you. All of you. Not just the writer, not just the smart-ass. You want someone who doesn’t care how messy or complicated you are because they’d still pick you every time.”

My throat tightens, his words cutting far too close to the truth.

“Am I wrong?” he asks, his voice softer now.

I shake my head, unable to speak.

Eli stands, closing the distance between us. My heart pounds as he stops in front of my chair, his broad frame blocking out the firelight.

“You can keep running,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble. “But I’ll still be here. Every time.”

His big hand raises, his thick, calloused fingers brushing lightly against my jaw. The touch is so gentle, so unexpected, that my breath catches.

“Eli—”

“Don’t fight me, Eva,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I should pull away. I should say something to break the moment. But instead, I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed as his hand cups my face.

The warmth of his breath ghosts over my lips, and for one brief, dizzying moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

But then he steps back, his hand falling away.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice low and filled with promise. “When you’re ready.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the firelight with my heart racing and my thoughts spinning out of control.