Page 274 of The Christmas Wife

"A lucky guess."

"Don’t bullshit me, Whittington. Did you find out my tastes from having me investigated?

He merely shoots me a look. I guess that’s a yes, then. He cuts off a big chunk of the waffles and shoves them into his mouth. Some of the ice cream sticks to the side of his mouth.

"Umm, you have a—" I nod my chin in his direction.

"What?"

I lean over, scoop up the dab of ice cream, bring it to my mouth and lick it off. "There, you’re fine now."

"Am I, though?" His eyes turn a stormy shade of green. Like there are emotions roiling around inside him, and he’s not sure how to give them words.

"You have to be. I have to be. Don’t you see that?"

His gaze intensifies, and a dull ache gnaws behind my breastbone. I tear my gaze away from him and pick up my knife and fork. I cut off a small portion of the pancakes and pop it in my mouth. It melts on my tongue. "Mmm, this tastes even better than it looks."

"So do you."

I cough, then reach for my glass of water and wash down the food.

"Hunter, seriously, stop doing this. You really have to stop."

"Give me one reason why," he shoots back.

"Because there’s somewhere I need to be."

"Right now?’

I glance at my phone, then back at him. "Someone’s waiting for me."

His lips firm. "Someone more important than whatever it is between the two of us?"

"Definitely more important. Also…" I set down my cutlery and fold my arms across my chest. "Let’s not forget, you said one night. I gave you two."

"You gave me two? As if you didn’t get anything out of it? Besides, you stayed a second night because of the storm," he points out.

I glance away, oddly ashamed. "Agreed, and now we have to go back to our daily lives."

He looks between my eyes. "Is that your final decision on the matter?"

I swallow, force myself to meet his gaze. "Yes." I clear my throat. "Yes, it is."

He stays silent for a few seconds, then nods. "Okay." He pulls out his phone and begins to scroll the screen.

I blink. "Did you say okay?"

"I don’t repeat myself, Zara."

Zara, not Fire.He called me Zara earlier, but not like this. Not with his attention focused on something other than me. Not with his jaw hard. Not with an invisible barrier he seems to have pulled down between us. What happened? Did I finally succeed in pushing him away? It’s what I want. It’s what I’ve been trying to achieve since I met him. I succeeded and now, I already miss him. He’s sitting in front of me, but it’s as if he’s not with meanymore. This is how it feels to not be the cynosure of Hunter Whittington’s attention. It feels like all the warmth in the room has drained out. Like an avalanche has dumped ice all over me, and now I’m frozen, unable to feel my limbs, while my heart flutters in my chest like a caged bird.

He glances up from his phone suddenly, and our gazes connect. And his eyes? Oh, god, his eyes are a cold blue, a glacial frostiness in them that I’ve only seen reserved for others. And now, he’s aiming that aloof politeness at me.

"Don’t you want the rest of your breakfast?" He glances at my plate, then at me.

"Not hungry," I murmur.

He seems like he’s about to protest, then catches himself. "Fine." He rises to his feet and brushes past the table.

---