Emma felt as if electricity was thrumming along her skin as Nick’s truck pulled up to the front of her tiny cabin. The early afternoon sunlight glistened off the tinsel that she could see through the window, and instead of upsetting her as it had earlier, the dancing sparkles made her smile.
That smile faded when a man rounded the corner of the cabin, shading his eyes as Nick shifted the truck into Park. Emma’s stomach sank like a stone in the water.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she muttered to herself as she undid her seat belt. Irritation was a thousand tiny needles in her brain.
“Look what the what?” Nick’s brow furrowed at her southern slang, but when he saw her face, his focus shifted. “Who is that? Are you okay?”
“Um…” Emma looked through the windshield to where Matthew stood, arms now crossed over his chest as he waited rather impatiently for her to get out of the truck. “Thank you for the…the hike. The wine.”
She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth and then decided to be fully honest. “Thank you for showing me your favorite place. It was…I appreciate it.”
“You appreciate it?” He arched an eyebrow, his gaze dropping to her lips, and she ran her tongue over them self-consciously, flushing a little. He was remembering their kiss…their kisses, plural. She was, too.
If Matthew wasn’t here on her doorstep, she just might have been brave enough to invite Nick inside for a bit. The fact that she no longer could invite Nick in made her resent the presence of her ex even more.
“I’ll…” She wanted to ask Nick to call her, or to tell him that she’d stop by the studio the next day, but the bravery she’d felt that morning was rapidly fleeing, scared away by the reminder of her life back home. “Thank you.”
Embarrassed by how cold her words were, she opened the passenger door and slid out. She sounded so abrupt, so curt. She definitely didn’t sound the way Nick made her feel.
“Matthew.” Closing the short distance, Emma listened to the quiet tick of the engine in the thin air. “Why are you here?”
Surprise flashed over his features, which exasperated Emma. Matthew had never been great at seeing the other side of things—he tended to decide what he was going to do, and if others didn’t like it, he couldn’t quite understand how they could be displeased when he was not.
She heard the driver’s door open, the crunch of boots on the snow-packed ground behind her.
“Everything okay?” Nick came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder protectively. When she glanced behind her, she saw that his jaw was set, his lips curved in the slightest of smirks.
“It’s fine—” She started to speak, but Matthew cut her off.
“Who’s this?” He drew himself up to his full six-foot-two-inch height, pulling his shoulders back. Wearing a charcoal Tom Ford suit that she’d helped him pick out at the Nordstrom’s in Atlanta, he looked as crisp as if he hadn’t just traveled for nearly a full day, which Emma knew he must have. He also looked cold, his sweeping black peacoat not meant for the current temperature.
“Matthew, this is…Nick.” She blanched. “Nick, Matthew.”
“And who is Nick, exactly?” Matthew cast a sharp look at her. Most people wouldn’t have been able to read much emotion in his face at all, but Emma had known him for so long that the snap of jealousy was quite clear.
“Nick is a friend of my father’s.” She forced herself to speak calmly, though she could barely hear the words over the thundering of her pulse. Guilt was warm and sticky, tugging at her and trying to drag her down.
She forced herself to shake it off. She had ended things with Matthew. She could spend her time with whomever she wanted. And Nick…well. She had no idea what to call the thing between them, and she guessed he didn’t, either, so he couldn’t get upset with her, really.
With this firmly in mind, she didn’t bother refraining from rolling her eyes as the two men sized each other up. The way they puffed their chests out and squared their shoulders reminded her of the roosters on a farm she’d visited for a field trip in elementary school, each ready to charge if another rooster so much as stuck a beak into his territory.
“I’m fixin’ to talk to you, Emma.” Apparently deciding that pecking the enemy was beneath him, Matthew turned slightly, placing the whole of his attention on Emma. He was upset—she could tell by the way the South had thickened in his voice. “Can we go inside and have some tea? What kind of person can live in this cold?”
“We’re called Ca-na-di-ans.” Nick grinned, though there was no mirth in the expression. “Guess we’re just tougher than most.”
“Nick.” Emma tugged on the end of her ponytail with frustration. “Matthew. Mind your manners.”
The man she’d planned to marry looked taken aback at the chastisement. Guilt pinched something inside her chest until she remembered why she was up here in the first place.
Still, she’d known him her entire life. He’d come all this way to see her—she owed it to him to talk.
“We can have tea.” Turning to Nick, she faltered when she saw his expression. Wild—that was her first thought. Barely restrained ferocity, control hanging by a thread.
It made no sense, but she felt her pulse speed up regardless. It made no sense, and that was why she liked it.
“I’ll come by the studio later?” She flushed as soon as she spoke, thinking of the implication of her words—did it sound like she wanted to come over so that she could crawl into his bed?
Was it wrong that, when his eyes darkened, she thought that that might be the reason after all?
“Make sure you do.” His words sounded deliberately provocative, and her heart rate sped even faster. Nearly forgetting that Matthew was there, she made a small sound as Nick hooked his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him, against him, with one quick tug.
He claimed her lips, parting them just long enough to sweep his tongue inside. He nipped at her bottom lip, making her knees go weak before he pulled back, eyes flashing with triumph.
“Later.” His stare flicked to Matthew, triumph flickering there. Emma’s temper flared, and she pressed her hands to Nick’s chest and shoved, light but firm.
“Enough with the testosterone.” A hint of a smile appeared on Matthew’s face, disappearing abruptly when Emma glared at him, too. She pointed to the cabin door, turning her back on Nick. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll see you later.” Nick’s words were lazy, arrogant—the cocky artist she’d met in the studio was back, crowding out the multifaceted man who had appeared during their hike.
The attraction flashed bright even through her agitation. Yes, he was cocky, but he had a reason to be.
Turning her attention back to Matthew, she saw a mix of emotions on his face, but the one that caught her attention was the tendril of pain. She’d hurt him with her response to Nick’s kiss. And while she wasn’t sorry for ending things between them, she hated to cause him pain.
“Come on.” Sighing under the weight of the surreal thing that her life had become, she slipped her rustic cabin key from the pocket of her new down-filled coat. “Let’s get you some hot tea to thaw you out, and you can tell me why you’re here.”