2. Mixed up
1775 Words
Elena's POV:
My heart was a freaking mess. I immediately recognized those eyes... the way he moved. He still moved like a freaking predator. Of course, he did. He was a wolf.
“What the f**k are you doing here?” I blurted, stumbling back as a large, broad-shouldered figure looked down on me. He froze. Then frowned.
Goddess, he was too big, and my body, my freaking body reacted to his closeness like it always did. Like he was a magnet and I was a freaking piece of rusty iron.
Very rusty, if you asked me. And...
No. One rejection was enough for a lifetime, and after the madness Jason had caused in my life... I was in no place for a relationship, rebound or otherwise. Also... rebounding with Caleb Monroe... hell, no. My heart couldn't take that disaster, not the second time.
“I should be the one asking that, lady. Trespassing into a stranger’s cottage?”
Lady? Ouch, he called me lady.
Like I was some random stranger off the street. Like I hadn’t once cried into Harper’s pillow over him. Like... like I hadn't once begged him to give me a chance.
I stared at him—eyes, jawline, stupid perfect cheekbones, even more unfairly handsome than I remembered, winter snow still clinging to him—and something sour twisted low in my stomach.
It felt like lust and rage, all at once. I hated that feeling.
“Lady?” I repeated, my voice higher than intended. “What lady?”
I wasn’t sure what bothered me more. That he didn’t remember me, or that part of me wanted him to.
He glared back, crossing his arms over his chest, which looked annoyingly perfect, like it had been carved out of a holiday romance novel. I shook my head. I had been abstinent for way too long, and seeing him again was not helping... not when he looked like something I would love to take a big bite of.
Fuck no, Elena. f**k no. Stay the f**k away.
“Then what should I call you?” he asked. “And keep your voice down.”
“I’m not the one shouting like a banshee,” I shot back, glaring up at him, cursing at how tall he was, and how I had to lean back to look.
His jaw tightened, and he let out a slow breath, his eyes scanning me with derision, and I wanted to punch that perfectly beautiful nose. Why was everything about him so f*****g perfect?
I hated it. Goddess, I hated it. I could have forgotten the humiliation of that rejection had he changed into... something ugly? But of course, that was asking too much. Caleb Monroe couldn't be ugly even if he tried!
“You walked into my rental,” he said evenly, “and now you’re calling me a banshee?”
“I didn’t walk into your rental,” I snapped. “This is mine.”
His brows rose. “Oh, really? Says you... the strange lady.”
“Yes. Really, and stop calling me lady, you giant.”
I whipped the folded reservation confirmation out of my coat pocket like it was a weapon. I shoved it at his chest. Hard. And noticed how built he was under that thin t-shirt.
He grabbed it, taking a quick step back, as if he was afraid I might do more than just touch him.
He stared down at it, frown deepening. “Everpine Haven. December twenty-first to... indefinite.”
“Exactly. Now do you believe me?"
He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping through something. “Funny. Because I booked Everpine Haven from the twenty-first up to the newyear, and here is the confirmation. I knew I didn't make a mistake.” He frowned.
Of course he did.
Of course.
This had Harper’s messy fingerprints all over it. That evil wretch!
The woman couldn’t wrap a present, but she could wrap two people into the same cottage like it was her hobby.
Fuck Harper.
I love her, but the next time I see her, I’m going to murder her!
Caleb looked up again. “This is a double booking. Someone messed up.”
“You think?” I deadpanned. I exactly knew who messed up. His f*****g sister.
He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. This is obviously a mix-up. You can stay for the night. Tomorrow, when the snow clears, you can find another rental—”
Where the hell was I going to find another rental? When I drove here, everything looked empty, and for some reason, I didn't want him to get his way. It still stung... that he didn't recognize his sister's best friend.
“No.”
His head snapped up. His blue eyes darkened. “No? What do you mean no?”
“Yes. No. I’m not leaving. You can leave if you want.”
“You can’t stay.” He huffed out a cold breath. "I was here first."
“Watch me,” I said. "It doesn't matter. Isn't it gentlemanly to... let the lady stay? Or are you not a gentleman?"
He groaned under his breath, and for a second, I swore something behind his eyes flickered—perhaps, his wolf—but it was gone as quick as the flash came.
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the snow melting on the edges of his dark hair, the faint scar on his eyebrow, the way his chest rose and fell like he was wrestling with himself.
"You should realize this is a very dangerous situation for you. I'm a gentleman, and that is the only reason you are still standing here, or I would have thrown you out in the snow..."
"You think it would be that easy? I want to see you try." I raised my chin defiantly, and he grunted again.
"I'll book you a new rental. I will pay for it, pay for however longer you want to stay. I can find one that is not too remote, and in the middle of the town," he finally said. "Just--" he paused with a frown. “Tell me your name,” he said quietly, almost challengingly.
My heart tripped.
"I don't want you to book me a rental. I don't want to be in the middle of the town. I like this one, this peace and quiet. I want this one."
He had no idea he was standing three feet from the girl who once told him—red-faced, eighteen, and holding a box of cookies—that she liked him.
A lot.
"Ok, tell your name anyway."
I took a breath. “You want my name?” I breathed, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s Elena.”
He blinked. Then froze.
“Elena…?” he echoed.
“Mm-hm.”
His eyes widened—barely—but enough for me to see it. The blue of his eyes glowed as he took an involuntary step back.
“Elena Hart,” I said, looking up at him, my eyes never leaving his. He blinked. The shock hit him like a snowball to the face.
His lips parted. His shoulders tensed. His entire expression shifted with a sharp, stunned recognition that made warmth flood my chest and annoyance slam right after it.
He remembered. Finally.
Goddess, by now, my pride was weeping at my feet.
Before I could decide if that made me want to cry or punch him, a small voice cut through the tension.
“Daddy?”
We both turned.
A little boy stood at the hallway entrance, pajamas covered in tiny wolves, hair sticking up like he’d rolled through a pile of cookies, rubbing his eyes.
Big brown eyes looked up, rubbing eyes.
“Daddy, is it Mommy?”
Caleb jerked, and something soft, painful, and complicated flickered across his face. He shook his head, turning to look at the boy. I remembered him from the many pictures Harper had. Milo. I had always resented the fact that... he married Amelia Burke... and had a beautiful boy with her.
And then the b***h cheated on him, and left Milo to globe-trot with someone else.
I knew the story... of course. I was Harper's venting bag.
“No, buddy. Not Mommy. You know... Mommy isn't coming.”
Milo looked at me, his lips in a pout.
Blink. Blink.
“Who’s she?”
Caleb hesitated. “This is… uh… Aunt Harper’s friend. And she was just leaving—”
“Why should I leave?” I cut in. "I told you I'm not going anywhere."
His head snapped toward me, eyes flashing.
I smiled sweetly.
Petty. I know. I didn’t care.
Caleb stood up straighter, jaw ticking. “Not today. Tomorrow.”
“It’s snowing,” Milo said, padding forward on socked feet. He looked at me with a frown and then looked at the box I was holding. "Is that cookies?"
I nodded. "Yes. A box full of them."
"You can stay," Milo said.
I choked on a laugh.
Caleb choked on his soul.
“Milo,” he began, “it’s not—”
“She can stay,” Milo repeated with the kind of unwavering conviction only small children and cult leaders had.
I bit my lip. Hard.
Caleb closed his eyes like he was begging the universe for patience.
I folded my arms. “We wouldn’t want to upset Milo.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Caleb muttered.
“Not even a little,” I lied.
Milo wandered closer. He stared up at me with curious eyes. “Do you like pancakes?”
I blinked. “Uh… yes?”
“Daddy makes the best pancakes,” he said proudly. “If you give me cookies, he makes you pancakes.”
Well. f**k me.
How was I supposed to argue with that?
Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Fine. One night. But you stay in the spare room.”
“It's not like I am going to sleep in your room," I muttered under my breath. His eyes flashed as he gave me a dark look.
“Fine.”
Milo grinned like Christmas came early. “My cookie?"
"You're not eating the cookie now, buddy," Caleb said. "Later."
Milo nodded, as I handed him the cookie.
I smirked. The storm howled outside. The cottage crackled with warmth.
When I looked up, he was looking at me... his eyes holding something strange I didn't recognize.
I gulped.
"What?"
"Nothing."
And Harper… that meddling witch… was definitely laughing wherever she was.
(-)
- Writer
