Page 62 of Mountain Hero

“About?”

“How happy I am. Waking up next to you. Having our coffee together. And I get to spend the entire day with you. Helping at the store, working on my new design projects, and if we want, we can even go out to eat tonight.”

My heart squeezes. “Ah, hun. I’m happy, too.” After a beat, I ask, “Do you want to go out for dinner? I hadn’t thought about it, but we can. There’s Mariano’s, or The Laughing Goat, or Blissful Brews—it’s not romantic, but they do have great wings and beer.”

“I think…” A tiny V forms between her eyes as she thinks. “Could we go to Blissful Brews? I’ve never been. And maybe… we could invite the guys?”

“The guys?” Not quite the date I was thinking of.

“Well, I was just thinking… they’ve done so much to help me. If we go there, I could treat them to dinner and beer as sort of a thanks. Not that it even comes close to what they did, but I’d like to do something. And I just got paid for that logo design job, so…”

She stretches up on her tiptoes, using my shoulders for balance, and kisses me again. “Then we can come home and do some other things like we did last night. And maybe that thing we talked about but didn’t get around to trying?”

Shit.

Just when I think Winter can’t get more perfect, she does something to prove me wrong.

I don’t want her to go. Shit. It’s selfish, but I want her to stay here.

“Enzo.” I don’t realize I’m frowning until Winter trails her finger across my forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It’s quick and gruffer than I intended. I take a breath before adding more gently, “I’m fine.”

Her lips press into a line. “No, you aren’t. If you don’t want to go out with the guys, it’s okay. It was just an idea. We don’t have to go out. We can just have dinner here.”

Double shit. Now I’m making Winter feel badly for absolutely no reason. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

What do I say? The truth? I feel like Winter leaving is this inevitable weight hanging over me, about to drop? That I don’t want her to go?

Giving myself some time to think, I take her hand and lead her over to the island. Once we’re both seated, I turn so I’m facing her. “I like the idea. And I think they’ll love it.”

Her brows wing up. “But?”

Ignore it or rip the Band-aid off?

“I guess… I’ve been thinking. Now that Thomas is in jail, what are your plans?”

“What do you mean?”

Shit. Now I’ve dug myself a hole and I’m stuck in it. “Your house. Do you… Are you… moving back?”

What is wrong with me? I’m stumbling over my words like a tongue-tied teen asking a girl out on his first date, not acting like the battle-toughened Special Forces soldier I was.

Winter’s face falls, and she drops my hand. She stares at the butcher block as she says quietly, “I’m sorry. I should have thought. Now that Thomas is in jail… of course you want your house to yourself again.”

Shit. That’s not what I meant at all. “No. That’s not it. Not in the least.”

But she’s still staring at the island, her chin jutting, and is that… Shit. Her bottom lip is trembling.

“I shouldn’t have assumed. Just staying like this. I can pack my stuff?—”

“No!” It’s quick. Emphatic. “No, hun. That’s not what I want.”

Her gaze lifts, meeting mine. The hesitancy and sadness in her eyes makes my stomach clench.

I did that.

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