Page 191 of Ewan

I glance inside and notice a large space with shelves, drawers, hangers, and racks. One side is packed with suits, professionally pressed shirts, and shoe boxes.

“There it is,” he says.

I look at the opposite side.

“It’s more than enough.”

“All right.”

He moves to the bathroom, and I follow him closely.

“You have everything you need inside.”

He points to the mirror and vanity cabinets.

There’s not a drop of water in the bathroom, and everything is in order like no one has taken a bath in here in ages.

I say nothing.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll change and be downstairs in a moment.”

“You do that,” he says before walking into the closet, grabbing some clothes, and heading out.

A few minutes later, I’m alone in the room, inspecting everything with curiosity as if I’m at the crime scene.

SCARLETT

One of thefew things I do well is lighting a real fire in a wooden burning fireplace.

I just couldn’t help it. The logs were there. The kindling was there. And the matches were there too.

It smells like smoke for the first few seconds before warmth oozes from the flames, light dancing on the walls enlivening the room.

Satisfied, I look at the fire, my hands hovering over it, absorbing the heat.

I love the sound of crackling fire.

Wearing my sweatpants and a long-sleeved top, and my hair pulled back into a bun, I spin around and jump back as if struck by lightning.

“Oh. You scared me,” I say, partly laughing, mostly panting. “I didn’t hear you walk in.”

A smile sits on his face, his eyebrow tilted.

“What did you do?”

I turn around, and gesturing at the fire, I explain to him how I lighted a fire, getting into all sorts of details like a silly girl seeking approval.

“Come here,” he says seriously, a smile barely clinging to his lips.

I’m completely thrown off by his demand and totally taken by surprise when he snakes his arm around me, and his lips crash onto mine with deep passion––his answer.

I fall against his chest, my arms looped around his neck, my lips burning under his.

A kernel of emotion blends into the mix of heat and pleasure, and I want it to never end, but he breaks the kiss eventually, and his hand locks mine.

“Maybe we should get dinner first,” he says, wearing comfortable clothes as well.

Minutes later, he shows me around the kitchen, and I pull the things we bought from the fridge before inviting him to sit behind the counter and watch me cook.

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