Tristan’s arm is draped around my shoulder, keeping me warm. I let myself lean into it for a moment too long before reminding myself why I shouldn’t.
“Tristan.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” His sultry tone is like pure maple syrup sliding down a stack of pancakes.
My heart stutters. I don’t look at him just yet. Instead, I focus on the worn edge of the bench, the bite of cold against my thighs through my jeans, the soft squish of old leaves under our feet.
“We can’t touch like this,” I say.
“Like what?” With one arm tightening around my shoulder, he uses the other hand to tilt my chin up.
I meet his gaze and regret it instantly. I’m mesmerized by hazel eyes and long lashes and the slight sheen of sweat under his adorable beanie. His breath curls in the cold between us.
“Like we’re lovers,” I state through parched lips. “Because we’re not, and we won’t be.”
He exhales unsteadily as realization hits. His brows furrow, and without a word, he pulls his arm back. The loss of his warmth is immediate. Tristan straightens, elbows resting on his knees as he stares out at the stream. I watch his Adam’s apple bob like a man swallowing down his words. Meanwhile, the winter air snaps, sharp and brittle with cold.
“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you,” I say quietly. “But we can’t be thinking that way right now. Not when there are so many other considerations.”
My voice sounds small, but the honesty in it anchors me. This isn’t about being coy. I need to be vulnerable and clear, even if it’s awkward for us both.
“And if you have to go back to Denver for, um, for hockey . . . we need to talk about custody with a clear head.”And my heart intact, I almost say.
This is when Tristan tells me he’s never going back to Denver, right?
Wrong. He lets out a low breath that borders on a sigh.
“You’re right. But damn if kissing you isn’t all I fucking think about.”
His words hang between us, impossible to ignore. He’s being vulnerable and honest, too. Even if the words sightly crack my wall of resistance, they only confirm how important it is to have this conversation.
“The attraction is there, but we need to figure out how to be around each other without sleeping together.” I rub my hands together nervously. “I don’t do casual sex. I’d rather not complicate our lives. We need to establish stabilitynowif we plan to co-parentlater.”
He doesn’t answer right away and instead resorts to grinding his molars. His jaw flexes before he declares wryly, “Stability is only possible if we aren’t lovers.”
“Exactly. We should get to know each other in ways that matter for our success as parents.”
“Are you sure kissing isn’t going to contribute to our success as parents?” His gaze dips, lingering a second too long on my mouth before dragging back up.
“Let’s be friends.”
His eyes burn on me. “You make it sound like a dare.”
“Do I?”
He stands and holds out his hand to help me up. “Let’s be friends.”
We return to the trail, walking side by side. Heat rolls off him in waves. His shoulder brushes mine once, twice. I ignore the sparks. Back at the car, he opens the driver’s side door for me.
“I’ll take your Honda back to Columbus with me,” he says casually. “Get it detailed. Make sure it’s in good shape to sell.”
I blink. “You’re kidnapping my Georgie?”
He grins. “Temporary custody.”
Since he’s on the driver’s side, helping me get in, Tristan also shows me how to adjust the steering wheel and my chair. Now I’m perched over the dash and much more comfortable.
“What are you doing for New Year’s? More Netflix and chips?” Tristan asks while we drive back to my place.
