I follow his gaze to the sky as the first snowflakes fall and when I look back at him, he’s not looking at the sky anymore—he’s looking at me, a soft smile on his face. “Like I said,” he whispers. “Magic.”
It feels like magic.
For the first time since I discovered that the man from the plane is, in fact, the one man on the planet who is completely off limits to me, all the protests empty from my brain. It’s just the winter night and the snow falling softly from the darkened sky and Elliot and I standing face to face, drawing closer together with each breath we take and each beat of our hearts. His coat is snug around my shoulders, and his spicy scent surrounds me, and his hand inches forward on the railing, covering my own.
I see in his eyes what he means to do, and I wonder if I’ll let him. I wonder what his lips feel like, what he tastes like, and I decide I want to find out more than I want to breathe.
But I don’t get the chance.
The opening of the patio door whips me out of my trance, and I take an immediate step back as people pour onto the patio. Dean Miller leads the pack, and his glance in our direction has anxiety lancing up my spine.
“We can’t,” I mutter, trying to calm my racing heart.
“I know,” Elliot says quietly. “Maybe one day.”
With something like regret, I shrug his coat off my shoulders and hand it to him, letting myself wish for just a second that one day was today.
CHAPTER TEN
ELLIOT
“Hello, my favorite grandson!”
I spin in my chair at the sound of Cece’s voice just in time to see the woman herself sweep into my office. The bright red flowing dress she wears is a big middle finger to the frigid January temperatures, and she has an orange tote bag the size of Texas slung over her shoulder.
I grin as she comes over and lays a kiss on my head then sits down in the chair opposite my desk, setting her massive tote carefully on her lap. “You better not let my brothers hear you call me your favorite.”
Cece waves that away. “Jordan was my favorite this morning because he shoveled my front steps before I even had a chance to ask. Noah was my favorite yesterday when he fixed my dripping bathroom faucet, and Coop will be my favorite tomorrow. I have a Costco list that’s calling his name.”
I chuckle, reaching into my desk drawer for a couple bags of the gummy bears I’ve gotten addicted to since meeting Ameliaon the plane and toss one to Cece. “You know you could just get the Costco stuff delivered, right?”
She opens the bag, studying the contents before choosing a red one. My brain immediately floods with images of Amelia withholding her red gummy bears until we got to know each other better. The hold she has on me is intense and not at all unwelcome.
“Well then, how would Cooper get the chance to be my favorite?”
I laugh, tossing candy into my mouth and taking a sip of the Coke on my desk. “So, what makes me your favorite today?”
Cece leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “You’re taking me to lunch.”
I wince. “Is there any other way for me to be your favorite today? I have office hours right now.”
Cece’s gaze turns sharp. “No, you don’t. It’s Wednesday. You don’t have office hours on Wednesday.”
I lean back in my chair, eating more candy. “How do you know my schedule?”
She scoffs. “Please. I know everything there is to know about my grandsons, including their work schedules.”
“So, my mom told you?”
Cece just shrugs. “The information I require at any given time comes to me in a multitude of different ways,” she says airily.
I roll my eyes. “My mom should really remember that I’m thirty-two, not twelve, and to mind her own business.”
“Oh, honey.” Cece’s voice is patronizing as shit. “The women in this family have never been very good at minding their own business. You know that. So, what’s so important that you lied to me about having office hours today?”
The knock on the door saves me from having to answer. When Amelia pokes her head around the half-opened door, Ithink maybe I should have filled Cece in on what I’m actually doing today since she can be unpredictable, but then Amelia steps fully into the office and I’m not thinking at all.
The tight leggings she’s wearing have my hands itching to run over every curve of her legs. Her hair is piled on her head in a haphazard bun with strands falling down all around her gorgeous face, and her oversized sweatshirt makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and cuddle her forever. The combination has my heart kicking up a notch, and I can’t pull my eyes—or my thoughts—away from her.
