Her eyebrows went up. “You fantasized about me?”

“Many times. But only since you’ve been back and we’ve been talking.”

She smiled. “I like that—being your fantasy.”

“I like the real you even better.”

The smile widened. “Thank you.” She tucked herself into my body, her head beneath my chin.

I held her like that for a few minutes, gently stroking her back. It had been a long time since I’d wanted to be this close to someone, since I’d felt this protective and possessive.

“Henry?” Her voice was soft and tentative.

“Yes?”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, first I have to shovel a fuck ton of snow. You probably have to pick up your kids, and I need to go into work at some point.”

“No, I mean . . . what now for us?” She pulled back and looked up at me, her eyes uncertain, her expression concerned. “I didn’t really think about that when I came here last night. Do we pretend this never happened?”

“That’s up to you,” I said. “Your situation is more complicated than mine. You’ve got children to think about.”

She nodded, biting her lip. One of her hands crept up my chest, and her eyes dropped to where her fingertips brushed softly over my skin. “I think it’s too soon to make anything . . . public.”

“I agree.”

She met my eyes again, her expression guileless and sweet. “But I don’t want it to stop.”

“Me neither.”

“Henry, are we crazy?”

“It’s possible.” I kissed her forehead. “But let’s not worry about it for now, okay? We’ve both been through a rough time, and I think we deserve something for ourselves that just feels good. The more we overthink this, the worse we make it for ourselves.”

“Okay.” She started to say something else, then stopped.

“What?” I prompted. “You can say it.”

“I just want us to always be honest with each other. If at some point, things don’t feel right and we need to take a step back, I want us to be able to say it. I don’t want either one of us to be blindsided or hurt.”

“You have my word—I will always be honest with you. I know trust isn’t easy for you right now, but my word is all I can offer.”

“Your word is good enough for me.” She looked relieved and cuddled in closer to my chest once more. “And I promise to always be honest too.”

Holding her that way felt so right, it was hard to imagine either of us wanting to walk away from the feeling. But I wasn’t an idiot—the circumstances were complicated. The timing was rushed. There was a lot at stake.

It was impossible to know what the future would bring, and for now it would just feel good to simply take each day as it came and enjoy one another’s company.

Naked.

As often as possible.

While I shoveled the front walk and driveway, Sylvia made coffee, scrambled some eggs, and sliced some fruit for us. Since she’d arrived wearing only that red dress and high heels, I’d loaned her a T-shirt. It was huge on her, hanging nearly to her knees, but she looked adorable in it, moving around in my kitchen in her bare feet, hair in a messy pile on top of her head.

I could get used to that so easily, I thought when I came in from the cold and saw her look up at me and smile. It was enough to keep me from going to her and tearing the shirt right off. Sylvia in my kitchen on a Sunday morning was not something I should get used to. In fact, it would probably be a really long time before it happened again—if it ever did.

After breakfast, she put the red dress and heels back on, buttoning her coat all the way up to the top. “I should have brought a change of clothes—and some boots,” she said at the door, shaking her head as she looked out the front window. “What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking about fucking me,” I reminded her, helping her with the top button.

“True story.” She sighed. “Oh well. I’ll live.”

“I could carry you to your car,” I offered, only half-joking.

That made her smile. “No, that’s okay. The walkway is shoveled, and I can pull right into the attached garage at Cloverleigh. Hopefully no one is in the kitchen and I can sneak up to my room.”

“Okay. Hey, I was thinking about something you said last night while I was outside—about your kids being disappointed about not skiing. What about taking them skiing here? It’s not Aspen or anything, but the drive to Crystal Mountain or Boyne isn’t bad.”

Her face brightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.”

“You were thinking about fucking me, remember?”

She blushed and swatted my chest with her gloves. “You’re making me sound like a fiend. But that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I planted one last kiss on her lips, resisting the urge to ask when I might next see her. “Drive carefully, okay? The roads are probably still a mess. Hey, will you let me know when you get home so I’m not worried?”

“Sure. But you’re going to have to give me your number for that.” She pulled her phone from her purse, opened up her contacts, and handed it to me.

I put my information in and gave it back to her. She glanced at what I’d entered and looked up with a smirk. “You really want to be in here as Big Dick DeSantis?”

“A hundred percent yes,” I told her.

She was still laughing when she went out the door.

After she’d gone, I cleaned up the kitchen, took a quick shower, got dressed, and headed into work. Since it was Sunday and the roads were shitty, traffic wasn’t bad at all. There were cars in the employee lot at Cloverleigh Farms since the inn would open up again today, but the winery wouldn’t open again until tomorrow, so I had the place to myself.

My mood was the best it had been in a long time—go figure—and I went about my work feeling upbeat and optimistic. Normally when the temperatures dropped below zero, I lost sleep worrying about my vines, but last night I’d slept like a baby.

Around noon, I ran out for a quick lunch, and when I came back, I saw Sylvia’s kids plus Mack’s three girls out on the lawn between the inn and the winery playing in the snow. It made me smile—I remembered how much fun my brothers and I used to have outside during winter, until one of us took a hard-packed snowball in the face and went in crying to our mom. Since none of us would ever admit who had thrown it, we’d all get sent to our rooms. But then she wouldn’t be able to stand the noise in the house, and she’d send us outside again.

After parking my truck, I walked by the kids and gave them a wave. Then I noticed they were having trouble pushing a massive snowball that would undoubtedly be used as the bottom third of a snowman.

“Mr. DeSantis!” cried Mack’s oldest daughter, Millie. “Can you help us? We made the butt too big!”

I laughed. “Sure.”

Once I managed to push the giant snowball where they wanted it, we went to work making the rest of the body. When all three snowballs were stacked, we went hunting for things to use for his face and clothing. On the ground we found two shriveled crab apples to use for his eyes. In the stables, someone found half an abandoned carrot. Mack’s daughter Felicity thought of using small stones for the mouth, so we trudged through the snow toward the creek to find some. Whitney found sticks for the arms, and in the barn, Keaton spotted an old hat on a hook in the wall. I lifted Mack’s little daughter Winnie up so she could place it on our snowman’s head.