Page 38 of Snowy Secrets

Fair enough. I step away from the kitchen and head to the bedroom. The door is open. I announce myself with a knock and enter. Bella glances up from her laptop, her eyes wide with a hintof surprise. She's in a T-shirt with a throw wrapped around her. I lean against the doorframe.

"Well, well, well," I say with a little smile. "If it isn't the cabin's resident wordsmith, hard at work."

Bella chuckles. Strands of hair fall on her face, spilling out from the messy bun atop her head. They catch the bleak rays of the sun from the window, framing her face like a halo of fire. "Just trying to capture some inspiration before it melts away with the snow."

I step further into the room. "Inspiration, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

A blush creeps onto Bella's cheeks, and she ducks her head, her fingers nervously tapping on the keyboard. "Don't get any ideas, Marcus. It's just a silly romance novel."

"Romance, eh?" I say, a playful glint in my eyes. "Sounds steamy."

She laughs. "If only it were that easy. My characters are being particularly stubborn today."

"Maybe they need a little…encouragement," I suggest. "Or perhaps a change of scenery."

Bella raises her head, her eyes meeting mine. A spark of curiosity flickers in their depths. "What did you have in mind?"

"Wyatt and River are downstairs," I say, leaning against the dresser. "They're whipping up a feast fit for a queen, and they're looking for a fourth for a game of truth or dare. With a healthy dose of liquid courage, of course."

Bella's lips curl mischievously. "Truth or dare, huh? Sounds dangerous."

"Only if you're not up for a challenge," I retort.

She closes her laptop with a decisive snap, her eyes sparkling. "Challenge accepted. Just let me grab a sweater."

As Bella rummages through her bag, I admire the way her T-shirt clings to her curves, the slant of her eyes, the bridge ofthat impossibly cute nose. The desire that had been simmering within me all morning flares to life.

She slips the sweater over her head and turns to me. "Ready!"

"So," I say, extending an arm to her, "are you ready to spill some secrets, Bella?"

She loops her arm in mine, her eyes lifting to look into me like pools reflecting forests. "Only if you are, Marcus."

17

BELLA

Isniff appreciatively at the spice-tinged air as Marcus leads me down the stairs. Come what may, I am not leaving the food half-eaten today. My stomach growls in response to the sound of sizzling from a pan—butter being browned, for sure. I'm not sure what kind of magic Wyatt is conjuring up in the kitchen, but I'm ready to be wowed.

Downstairs in the kitchen, there's a flurry of activity, with the table transformed under the weight of bread, some kind of a stew that smells of slow-cooked garlic and braised chicken, and a pretty bowl of salad. River puts out plates and fills our glasses with more of the old-fashioned alcohol that had made my blood sing earlier.

"Well, well, well," I hum as I take a seat. "This smells delicious."

Wyatt turns, a spatula in hand and a devilish grin on his face. "Just whipping up a little something to warm your belly, darlin'. Hope you're hungry."

"Ravenous," I reply, my eyes scanning the mouthwatering spread.

We gather around the table, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. Laughter fills the air, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the scraping of forks against plates.

After the plates are cleared, River takes my hand and leads me to the living room, where a roaring fire casts a warm glow on the cozy space. A crystal decanter of amber liquid sits on the coffee table, surrounded by four glasses.

"Up for a little game of truth or dare?" Wyatt asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow, a playful challenge in my gaze. "Are you sure you're ready for that, cowboy?"

He chuckles, his voice a low rumble. "Darlin', I'm always up for a challenge."

The game begins, the questions and dares escalating with each round. Secrets are spilled, laughter erupts, and the air crackles with a palpable sexual tension.

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