Page 27 of Best Hex Ever
“It would appear so,” Dina replied, doing her best to act cool despite feeling quite the opposite. What if he heard her snoring? These walls didn’t exactly look thick.
“Well, if we’re going to be roomies for the weekend, do you want to help me light the fire?” Scott offered. Dina turned toward Immy, but her friend was already out the door.
“See you both shortly for the rehearsal dinner!” Then she waved, pulling the door shut behind her.
Silence hung between them like a declaration. The way Scottjust stood there, looking at her. Like he was waiting for her to say something, to make the first move. And she wanted to. But if she did, and it didn’t work out, they would ruin the wedding weekend. She was the maid of honor, he was the best man; they were going to have to be in close proximity a lot.
“We should set some ground rules, while we’re here,” she said.
“Okay. What do you have in mind?”
“No bathroom hogging, unless one of us wants to have a bath.”
“I don’t remember the last time I had a bath anyway,” Scott said.
“What?” Dina was outraged. “You don’t have baths? How—how?” She couldn’t comprehendit.
“I don’t know,” Scott replied sheepishly. “I just never know what to do when I’m in them.”
“I could show y—I mean, I could tell you what you need. Bubbles. Books. And candles.” Heat pulsed around Dina’s body. Had Scott heard her slipup?
“I’ll take your word for it, Dina.” Oh no, how was she meant to focus when he said her name in that soft, deep voice of his. “What’s rule number two?”
“Hmm. No snoring, the walls are thin.”
“I don’t snore, but how can you be so sure that you aren’t a snorer?” Scott grinned.
“I most definitely am not a snorer. If you hear me snoring you can come into my room and throw a pillow at my head, that’s how sure I am.”
“Right, so rule number two: Scott can go into Dina’s room at night to throw pillows at her when she inevitably snores.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“You said it, not me.”
What an insufferable man. She couldn’t get enough of him.
“What do you need to light the fire?” she asked.
“Matches, if you can find some,” Scott replied, his voice husky. He was standing closer to her than she’d realized, his warm breath on her face and neck sending shivers to all the right places.
Dina broke away first, stalking to the kitchen, hunting for matches, for anything that would stop her running across the room and flinging herself into Scott’s tattooed, muscled arms.
There were no matches in the drawers, but she did find a fire striker and a piece of flint at the back of the pantry. She could just light the fire with her own magic, of course, but she wasn’t about to show Scott her magic.
She walked back to the fireplace, taking a moment to admire the way his back muscles rippled under his clothes as he laid out the kindling.
She crouched down beside him, inhaling his woodsy scent, the smell of the forest on his clothes and skin. It made her head spin. It made her want to do dangerous things.
“I’ve actually never lit a fire like this before,” she admitted, holding up the flint and the fire striker. It wasn’t a lie; the hearth at home was always lit by the house itself.
Scott met her eyes, a flash of hunger.
“Let me show you.” His hands enveloped hers. “All you need is a little bit of pressure. Right here.”
Holding her hands inside his own, Scott struck the flint, holding them close to the kindling. A spark flew out, a small orange glow appearing in the hearth.
“Now you try,” he said, releasing her hands. Dina could feel his breath on her exposed shoulder, the heat of his body surrounding hers.
