Panic sets in as soon as I'm inside. I raid my drawers, searching for something sexy to wear, but I ended up throwing out most of the good stuff when Luke left; I'm starting to regret my decision.

I pull out several pairs of lacy black underwear and stuff them in my case, not exactly an imaginative choice, but it'll have to make do. Mulan watches me from her spot on the bed, clearly perplexed. She has no idea that in less than an hour, we'll be on our way to a weekend away with none other than Milo Woods.

"We'll probably just end up watching movies," I say as I grab my toiletries, but she gives me this look before licking her paw, clearly unconvinced.

Heart pounding, I pack up the last of my things. I don't know why I'm so nervous, it's not like Milo and I have never  kissed before. We're both adults here – more or less – so why does the thought of us maybe having sex leave me petrified?

Maybe it's the fact that up until now, sex has never been promised. Alluded to maybe, desired even more, but never written in stone. Now here we are, heading to a secluded cabin  in the middle of nowhere– what else would we possibly do?

I manage a quick shower after packing, where I scrub and shave and preen my skin until it's soft and silky smooth. I finish with a fruity lotion and spend the last of my time on hair and makeup. The final step in my plan to seduce Milo is deciding what to wear. Do I go with sexy? Comfortable? Warm? What exactly does Milo have planned at this cabin? What if I arrive unprepared?

Mulan lets out a soft meow, and I know what it means. Get a grip, Kennedy.

She's right.

I settle on an oversized black jumper, leggings, and boots for my travel outfit. It's comfy enough that I don't have to keep adjusting things every two seconds and easy to take off if the situation occurs.

When I'm finally ready, I send Milo a text, sit on the sofa, suitcase by my feet, and watch the clock. The wait is giving me too much time to think. To stress. To back out. Mulan is in her carrier beside me, gnawing on her favorite toy, completely oblivious to the internal war being waged inside of me.

It's not long before my phone is buzzing. It's a text from Milo asking me to let him up. I take a deep breath, willing myself to get a grip before I buzz him up.  He's at my door in less than five minutes, and he strides into the room like the vampire that he is, his lips curled upward. He's changed out of his work clothes and is wearing a plain black jumper and jeans paired with another long vampire coat and trainers. He can even make casual look sexy.

"Hey," he says, nodding at Mulan. "I bought a litter tray and cat food. It's in the car."

Surprised, I say, "Thank you."

He nods and takes my case in one hand and the carrier in the other. I do one last sweep of the room like I've forgotten something before leading us into the hallway.  The elevator ride is quiet, mostly because I'm such a nervous wreck that I don't know what to say. He talks about how it might be cold in the cabin and did I bring warm clothes? I manage a yes before we cross the parking lot to his car, where I slide into the passenger seat while he puts my things in the back.

"The cabin isn't far," he says as he slips into the driver's seat.

I nod and fasten my seatbelt. Logic would tell me to be nervous about the fact I'm being taken to the middle of nowhere, but instead, I'm nervous about him. For the whole drive, I'm hyper-aware of his every move, from the slight lift of his eyebrow when we come across traffic to his extended arm when he switches on the radio. I can smell him from here, a clean, pinewood scent that makes me lean closer just to breathe it all in.

"You're abnormally quiet," he says.

"Just enjoying the view." It's true, too. Now that the last of the city is behind us, a winter wonderland has opened up, with pine trees dipped in crisp, white snow lining the deserted, open road.

It's not long before we're pulling down a narrow road, at the end of which is a lonely winter cabin. It sits against a backdrop of pine trees, surrounded by a blanket of snow. Fresh snowflakes dust the roof and porch, falling light as feathers to the floor.

"It's beautiful," I say. Beautifully secluded.

My heart ramps up as I step out of the car. The cold air stings my cheeks as my boots sink into the snow. I quickly grab Mulan and follow Milo to the cabin.

Inside is something like a cabin from a movie, from the rustic wooden floors to the polished log walls. We cross the narrow hallway and settle in the living room, fitted with a white corner sofa and a dark fluffy rug that sits sprawled before a rustic fireplace. As a cat that has never experienced the luxury of fire, Mulan will have a field day.

"I'll get the rest of the stuff from the car," Milo says. "If you give that switch by the fireplace a flick, it'll turn on." He must notice my confused expression because he adds, "It's gas."

"And here I was, looking forward to you chopping some wood," I say.

He grins and hurries back into the snow. I get to work turning on the fireplace, which lights the room in a soft, amber glow. If I weren't so unraveled, I'd find this extremely romantic.

For the first time all evening, Mulan lets out a whine. I hurry to let her out of the carrier, watching as she tiptoes out, looks around, then plonks herself onto the rug by the fire. So predictable.

Milo comes back seconds later with my suitcase and the cat stuff. He puts them down, then gets to work setting up a bowl and litter tray while Mulan purrs by the fire. When he's finished, he straightens up and walks toward me, stopping  a foot away. I suck in a breath, wondering if this is it – the moment I've been waiting for.

If it is, am I ready?

"You don't need to be nervous with me." He steps closer, then brushes a strand of my hair back. It's hard not to shiver from his touch. "I'm not expecting anything this weekend."

I falter and say, "Then why did you invite me?"

The corner of his lip twitches. "Because, and this might really shock you, Kennedy, I wanted to spend time with you."

"Really?"

He laughs and says, "Really. Come on, I'll show you around."

He takes my hand, and I feel it in my toes. Not just my toes but my chest and my heart. The warmth fills me up, threatening to burst through the pores of my skin, demanding to be acknowledged.

I have well and truly fallen.

After a brief tour downstairs, we spend the rest of the evening doing things I never thought I'd do with Milo Woods. He starts with dinner, a delicious home-cooked meal of Halloumi lasagna that I devour three servings of.

He gives me this look as I finish off my plate, not in the are you really eating all of that way that Luke used to look at me, but in a Glad she loves my cooking type way. And it's adorable.

"Where'd you learn to cook like this?" I ask because the only thing I can cook without burning it to a crisp is lemongrass chicken and rice.

"My dad has always loved cooking," he says. "Every weekend, we'd wake up early, and he'd teach me about different herbs and spices and what went with what."

I imagine a little Milo in the kitchen, and it's the cutest thing ever. "Well, it paid off," I say as I sip on my wine, "because I've never had lasagna this good."

He raises a single eyebrow, the kind that tells me his mind has wandered to less-than-pure things. "Really."

My heart leaps. "Really."

He hides a smirk before continuing his meal, and we spend the rest of dinner talking about anything and everything, from our favorite meals and movies to our favorite memories.

"Best Christmas," I say.

He thinks for a moment, then, "I was eleven. My family came to this cabin for a few days like we did every Christmas. No one really wanted to be there except for me. My siblings were at that age where not having wifi was the end of the world, and my parents weren't getting along, so it was a pretty bad time. When I couldn't take the arguing, I went outside to sled by myself and ended up hurting my arm pretty badly. Everyone rushed out to help and argued about taking me to the doctor, but I said I was fine. I guess they all felt so guilty that no one had been there with me, we spent Christmas watching movies and playing scrabble the way we used to. It was my best Christmas ever." Nostalgia briefly flashes in his eyes before he looks up and says, "What about you?"

But I'm still looking at him like he's a martian from another planet, wondering how we got here. How did I go from despising Milo Woods to feeling like this? And why aren't I more terrified?

"I think I was about six," I say. "Dad dressed up as Santa, gave me loads of presents, and then spent the rest of the night dancing with Mom to Christmas songs while I played with my new toys. I guess it felt like the epitome of childhood innocence: no drama, no bad stuff, like the perfect snapshot of happiness. That's why for a long time, Christmas was my favorite holiday. For one night, everyone stops being miserable and puts aside the bullshit."

He raises his glass, a twinkle in his eye, and says, "To putting aside the bullshit." I smile and clink my glass with his before finishing off my meal. Afterward, I help him to clear the table and let him give me a tour of the rest of the cabin. We head upstairs, where I gently brush my hand along the family photos lining the walls. Of course Milo was the cutest kid ever. He couldn't be like the rest of us and go through an awkward stage, he just had to be perfect his whole life.

His hand reaches back and gently grabs mine as he leads me down the corridor. "I'm interested to know what you looked like as a kid."

"No chance," I say. "Baby version of me was not cute. In fact, at a distance, some have even mistaken baby me for a giant pumpkin."

He laughs as we pass several open doors leading into the various bedrooms. Each one is beautifully decorated, maintaining the warm, rustic feel of the cabin but with an elegant twist. We pass the master bedroom, and my heart rate amps up a notch before we continue toward the bathroom. After a quick peek inside – and a gleeful smile from me at spotting the rainfall shower – Milo turns to face me. "And that concludes our indoor tour."

"Indoor tour?" I ask. "You're not going to make me go outside, are you?"

The look he shoots me is wicked. "Come on," he says, grabbing my hand again like it's the most natural thing in the world. In some ways, it is, which is even more absurd. It's hard to believe I'm here, spending my Christmas with Milo Woods. I keep wracking my brain, trying to figure out how these events came to be, but it'll forever remain a mystery.

Milo has us bundle up before we slip through the back door and into what he calls the yard but which is really acres of rolling, snow-covered hills stretching down to the woods. I scan the lights that coil around every available surface, unable to stop thinking about how romantic this feels.

In the corner, sitting under an archway of lights, is a hot tub. I glance at Milo, who looks at me with an innocent expression that makes me suspicious. "Are you trying to lure me into the hot tub?"

His eyes gleam back with something mischievous. "Of course not," he says, like the idea is absurd, "I'm taking you sledding."

He's not joking, either. After shuffling about in the shed, he pulls out a sleek blue sled big enough to fit us both. Then he sets it up at the top of the hill and climbs in before beckoning me over. But all I can think about is the story he told me about he'd broken his arm.

"That looks like a death trap," I say stubbornly.

He laughs and holds out his hand, which I'm so tempted to take. "I'll keep you safe," he says, "I promise."

I shiver at the words. I'll keep you safe, like he's not just talking about right here, right now; like it's a promise for the future. I tell myself I'm being ridiculous, that an anti-Christmas weekend away does not mean he's falling for me too. But right now, with that protective twinkle gleaming in his eyes, it's hard not to fall for the fairy tale.

Reluctantly, I take his hand, allowing me to pull him in front of him. His arms wrap around me, strong and warm, and my chest explodes with butterflies. Then suddenly, we're off, flying down the snowy hill at speeds that make my stomach jerk. I'm screaming out, half laughing, half terrified as Milo holds me tighter. It's been a long time since someone has embraced me like this – truly embraced me, like I'm someone important, someone they can't imagine slipping through their fingers.

Someone they're in love with.

Suddenly, the descent is terrifying. I can't ignore this feeling that whatever happens, this weekend could be the start of something more, and I'm caving under pressure.

The sled slows to a stop at the bottom of the hill, but we're still for a second while I try to stop the world from spinning. Milo stands first, then gently grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, where he takes hold of my waist. For a second, I stare up at him, searching the valleys and angles of his face for some kind of sign. He leans in closer, dark eyes alight with something energetic, and my heart thumps harder. Any second now, we're going to be kissing.

In a moment of panic, I reach down and grab a handful of snow before throwing it at him. Surprise crosses his face, but it only lasts a second before he forms a snowball and throws it right back. My panic relents as a full-blown snow fight ensues, with the pair of us dipping and dodging each other's snowballs like we're back to being five years old.

Milo gets the upper hand, his competitive nature shining through. He loads the sled with snow and flings it toward me, covering my coat. I laugh and dart in the opposite direction, scooping up snow along the way. Despite my gloves, my hands are freezing and completely soaked through, but I'm having so much fun that I don't care.

Eventually, when Milo goes full Terminator on me, we call a truce. He pulls me down onto a blanket of snow, and we make some snow angels before attempting to build a snowman. Out here, as I roll up a ball of snow for its torso, it's easy to forget there's a world outside of us, one where time resumes. Right now, Milo and I exist in a beautiful little snow globe, one made just for us.

When the snowman is complete, we both step back and look at our handwork. Clearly, the arts are not our strong suit because our snowman looks less like a snowman and more like a blob.

Milo looks over and frowns. "You're shivering like a leaf. Let's go back inside."

He's right, we've been rolling around in so much snow that my clothes have soaked through, and finally, I'm starting to feel it. Taking my hand, he leads me back up the hill and over to the cabin.

Suddenly I'm feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Tonight was a glimpse of something: something messy and perfect and real. Until now, I've been driven by lust and a need to rip his clothes off, but tonight was a glimpse of what the future could be, and it's everything I've wanted and more.

A/N

Hey readers, hope you enjoyed! ❤️

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