Page 9 of The Fine Line
Of course.
Let me tell you something?—
I grew up living most of my life in the cold. I love it. I thrive in it. I feel most alive when I’m in it.
And Caroline Barrett? She is winter personified.
Fair skin, dusted with the faintest freckles across the bridge of her nose—visible only when she stands directly in the light—like frost crystals glinting on the ground at sunrise.
Icy blonde hair, cut blunt just above her shoulders, framing her face like a halo.
Eyes pale blue, the color of a frozen lake on a clear morning—the kind you skate across as a kid and never forget, because for a moment the whole world feels like magic.
Her cheeks and lips are always flushed, like she’s just stepped inside from the cold.
She wears white year-round and somehow never fades intothe background. When she walks into a room, people stop and stare, like they’ve just seen an angel.
Some people say her personality matches the season: cold, harsh, overbearing.
But those people don’t really know Caroline.
Not like I do.
There are women in this world who don’t know how beautiful they are.
Caroline is not one of them. She knows exactly what she is. Telling her she’s stunning would be a waste of breath. She doesn’t need your compliments.
She’s a challenge. One that can’t be won with charm.
And right now, she’s standing in front of me—arms crossed, expression unreadable but probably leaning toward annoyed—and somehow, she knocks the air out of my lungs faster than Bear’s lecture just did.
Still, I can’t help the smirk that forms.
The words slip out before I can stop them.
“Well, someone better call the Austin Zoo.”
Her eyes narrow, and I lean casually against the wall, grinning down at her like the jackass I know she thinks I am.
“Because it looks like there’s a cub on the loose.”
She gives no reaction, but that just eggs me on.
“Or, on second thought, maybe don’t. You looking for some honey, Cub?”
“You get less surprising by the day,” she says flatly.
“And you only get more beautiful.”
She’s not having it. Not that I expected her to be.
“Save your charm for the media, Sutton. I’d say you’re going to need it.”
She pats my shoulder like she’s done with me already and starts to walk past, but I haven’t even started yet.
“So you think I’m charming?”
“Not in the slightest.”
