14. Arielle

fourteen

Arielle

Stallone leads the way inside his house, and I struggle to keep my face neutral. This entire mountain is steeped so strongly in evergreen scent, and it doesn’t dissipate when I pass through the threshold. More forest fumes waft around me as I take in his home. The exterior design resembles something similar to a log cabin, only so huge it could pass as a small lodge. Now, I see there is nothing rustic about the interior. It has dark wood floors and an open floor plan that leads to a modern kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The wall across from the kitchen is replaced by floor-to-ceiling windows, opening to a view of the valley below. The window’s so large, when I stand next to it, I feel like I’m standing outside. I step right up to the window and look down, scanning all along the valley. “This is a stunning view.”

“It’s my favorite thing about this place.” He comes up beside me, his frame so huge I have to tip my head all the way to look up at him. His shoulders span wide and appear even broader, as his arms are so large he can’t lower them to his body. Yet, I don’t feel small standing next to him. If anything, it feels safe and shielded. Protected. He holds a lingering gaze on me that melts me to the floor. Ever since he brought up kissing me like his girlfriend, I find myself imagining what it would be like to be his girlfriend.

I can’t imagine feeling any other emotions but loved and protected.

“What would you like for dinner?” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, back toward the kitchen. “I have steak and beef thawed out.”

“Oh.” I pinch my lips together, as I love teasing him. “I only eat fish and chicken.”

His eyes spring wide, and he starts a rebuttal, “I can make a vegetable stew—”

“I was kidding.” I chuckle and clench his forearm, drawing myself a little closer to him. Man, it’s strong and sinewy. I could certainly get used to these. “If you have beef, burgers are great.”

“That’s my specialty.” He gives me a playful wink and crosses the room.

I back away from the window as well, following him to the kitchen. “What can I help with?”

“How about a salad?”

“I can do that.” I gesture to the oversized fridge. “Can I take a peek?”

“Go right ahead.” He opens the fridge, grabs a package of beef and holds on to the door until I come forward. I find the lettuce and cucumbers in the crisper and set them on the counter. A knife block sets next to me, so I pull out a smaller knife and locate the cutting board that pulls out from the counter. I pivot and set about washing the produce when Stallone fills in the silence, “So, we suck at being just friends, huh?”

I sputter out a laugh, but my heart doesn’t think it’s funny. It’s the kind of laugh you have when you aren’t sure what to say or think. “You started it with that bet.”

“Not me.” He shakes his head back and forth while he unwraps the beef. “You started it days ago with your sweet kiss coffee.”

“What?” I pretend to be offended by lowering my brow and tilting my head away. “That was just coffee.”

“Coffee with all the innuendo?” His gaze traps mine, and I don’t turn away.

“Maybe.” I shrug and raise my head to the cupboards above me.

As if reading my mind, he opens one, pulls out a bowl, and sets it in front of me. “Maybe?” His raised eyebrow challenges me. “Then you asked me to stay late first.”

“I did.” I nod and move the veggies to the bowl with my hands. “And I’m not the least bit sorry I did that.”

He straightens his smile, boring a gaze into mine that seems to go right through me. “Tell me about your life back home.”

“That’s a weird thing to change the subject to.”

“Not really.” His tone is curt. “You’re going back there tomorrow. Aren’t you?”

“I-I am supposed to.” All my replies fire out rapidly as a defensiveness rises in my chest.

“Answer my question. Are you going back tomorrow?” His voice is firm and insistent.

“Ah.” A vision forms in my brain, bringing forth all the things that are in my life in Boston.

Tom. Definitely don’t care to see him anymore.

My dad. He wouldn’t be happy if I left Boston, but he couldn’t stop me.

My job. I’m not even sure I have it anymore because I haven’t showed up for days.

None of those things are enough to take me from the gaze that Stallone has on me now. When he looks at me, I feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet, and all I want to do is melt into his arms. It's more than just feeling beautiful though. I feel seen and respected, so much more than I have ever. My thoughts are muted but insistent with the biggest thing being that we both agreed from the start we weren’t looking for anything long term.

“Would it matter if I didn’t?” I level my gaze with his, and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me toward him with so much insistence I must place my palms on his chest to keep my balance. His hand finds my chin, tipping my face up with the same urgency, and his lips crash down on mine, leaving no room in my heart for doubts. When he pulls away, my fingertips rise to brush over my bottom lip that’s still tingling. I wait for him to say anything to hint of how he’s feeling.

When he speaks it doesn’t disappoint. “It could matter.”

I swallow, feeling my upcoming decision deep in my gut. I know what I want to do. I stare off past him, trying to think of what I’m going to tell my family. It’s not even so much my dad, but Christian. He’s so insanely protective of me, and when he finds out the reason I want to stay, he’s going to chew fire.