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Page 29 of Falling for Him (Honey Leaf Lodge #3)

Ben

The hot water beat down on my back, hissing against my skin like it was trying to burn the night off me.

It didn’t work.

Fifi’s laughter still echoed in my ears.

So did the feel of her skin, and her breathy little hums. I loved the way she curled into me like I was safety and fire all at once.

And the worst part?

I let it happen.

Hell, I wanted it to happen.

But now, standing here in the steam-choked bathroom of the Honey Leaf Lodge, I wasn’t so sure I’d done the right thing.

I braced both hands against the shower wall, water sluicing over my neck and down my spine. It should’ve grounded me. Instead, I felt like I was hovering six inches off the earth, completely untethered.

Because the truth was staring me down like a freight train.

I lived in Florida.

She lived in Wisconsin.

I had a career, one I’d built with blood and bone and sleep-starved deadlines. One I had convinced myself I wanted even when every fiber in me screamed otherwise.

I didn’t have space for someone like Fifi.

And she didn’t deserve a man who couldn’t figure out which direction his life was even pointed. I’d done that once before and it turned out awful.

But God, last night…

I pressed my forehead to the cool tile, letting the contrast of the water and porcelain sting some sense back into me.

Because I hadn’t just kissed her.

I’d opened something, something real and completely terrifying. Something I couldn’t just pack away in my luggage when I flew home.

I killed the water, stepped out of the shower, and grabbed the towel with more force than necessary. My reflection in the mirror was blurred by fog, but even without details, I could see the tension in my shoulders. The way my jaw was set like a man preparing for a fight.

And I wasn’t even sure who I was fighting.

Myself, probably. As usual.

I tugged on clean clothes, towel-dried my hair, and sat on the edge of the bed staring at my phone for too long.

Then, without overthinking it, I texted my brother.

Might’ve overstepped with someone here. The woman at the lodge. I crossed a line.

His reply came a minute later.

DUSTIN: You kissed a girl??! Our little emotionally unavailable baby bird is growing up. I’m so proud. Tell her I’ll knit her a welcome blanket.

I stared at the screen, not sure whether to laugh, throw the phone, or drive to the airport immediately. Sobriety didn’t soften his edge.

I wrote back.

I’m serious. She’s not just anyone. And I don’t even know what I’m doing.

He responded faster this time.

That’s the point, dumbass. You never let yourself not know what you’re doing. Maybe it’s time you just go with the flow and quit planning shit.

I wrote back a smiley face and gave up.

We didn’t do deep. Not me. Not Dustin. We joked. We deflected. We brushed over scars and called it coping.

Even when we were younger and everything at home was breaking apart, we handled it in sarcasm and strategy.

Dustin escaped, and I stayed behind and tried to hold the walls together with duct tape and denial.

And now?

Now I was thirty-six years old, sitting half-dressed in a lodge bedroom, wondering how the hell a woman like Fifi had cracked through in less than a week.

I didn’t want to hurt her.

That was the part I couldn’t stop circling.

I didn’t want her to look at me in two days, or six, and realize I was just another guy who got her hopes up.

Because last night felt like more than just a fling. Even now, thinking about her curled up beside me made something in my chest go tight.

I’d wanted to tell Dustin that.

I’d wanted to ask him what the hell I was supposed to do when I was falling for a woman whose life was rooted six states away from mine.

But instead, we’d bantered. Again. Defaulted to dumb emojis and big-brother bravado.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and rubbed both hands over my face.

I wasn’t mad at him.

I was mad at me.

Because I wanted to talk.

I just didn’t know how.

And now, the only person I could imagine talking to about any of this was Fifi.

And I’d just kissed her senseless and maybe, probably , set both of us up to break a little.

I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe I could figure this out.

Maybe I could undo the knots I’d spent years tying.

But not in one day.

Not without being honest.

And that?

That was the part I still hadn’t figured out how to do.

The knock was soft.

Tentative.

Too gentle to be anything other than her.

I froze.

For a second, I told myself to ignore it. Let it go. Stay wrapped in my tangle of guilt and logic and text messages I regretted sending.

But my legs didn’t get the memo.

I was halfway across the room before my brain caught up.

I opened the door.

And there she was.

Fifi.

Sunlight behind her. Hair a little damp from the post-hike shower. A cherry red T-shirt knotted at her waist. Denim shorts. Zero warning.

Her smile was small. A little uncertain.

“Hi.”

I blinked.

Which felt stupid because it was just a word, but something about the way she said it made my blood heat.

She looked… adorable.

No—dangerous.

Dangerously adorable.

And that was a bad combination for a man who’d spent the last half hour trying to talk himself out of needing to touch her again.

Her gaze met mine.

Then dipped.

Right to the bed behind me.

For a second. A heartbeat.

Maybe even half of one.

But I saw it.

She looked.

And that was all it took to throw my brain into chaos.

Because the moment she glanced back up, her cheeks a little pinker, her lips doing that soft parting thing they did when she was thinking too fast, I was already gone.

Utterly gone.

“Hey,” I said, and my voice came out rougher than I wanted.

She bit her lip. “Is this a bad time?”

Only if you plan to stay clothed.

“No,” I said. “It’s fine. Just… recovering from mechanical sabotage and Matchmaker Millie’s wilderness program.”

That made her smile. “She’s going to write a book about us, isn’t she?”

I leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, still not trusting myself to step back and invite her in. “She’s probably already halfway through chapter five.”

Fifi laughed lightly, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Something unsure. Like maybe she wasn’t just here to flirt. Like maybe she was nervous now too.

“You okay?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I just… wanted to check on you.”

That was it.

Sweet. Simple.

But the way she looked at me said there was more underneath.

She was checking on me.

But she was also checking in.

I reached for the doorframe tighter.

Because I wanted her.

Not just in the I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-her-body kind of way, though, trust me, that was alive and well.

I wanted her in the I-miss-you-when-you-leave-a-room kind of way.

And that? That was dangerous.

I stepped back.

“Come in.”

She did, glancing around like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. I’d never seen her unsure before. Not like this. She always seemed to take up space effortlessly, laughing and cracking jokes and throwing charm like it was confetti.

But now?

She looked almost… shy.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she said, twirling the hem of her shirt.

“You didn’t.”

She glanced at the bed again.

This time I knew I wasn’t imagining it.

And her eyes widened like she realized she’d been caught.

“I just came to… see if you wanted coffee.”

“Coffee?”

She nodded. “There’s a fresh pot downstairs. And maybe I have muffins. And maybe I had too many and needed to offload one.”

I tilted my head. “You’re bribing me with baked goods?”

“Technically, I’m offering you emotional support in the form of carbs.”

I smiled despite myself. “You know I’m not going to be able to say no to you, right?”

Her brows lifted. “Is that true?”

God help me, it was.

I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck. “Fifi—”

“I know,” she said quickly. “You live far away. This is complicated. You don’t have to say it again. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Her voice dropped a little at the end.

So did my defenses.

I walked toward her slowly, closing the distance between us one step at a time.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”

Her breath hitched. Her eyes searched mine.

And for a second, all the things I wanted to say— Stay with me. Let’s figure this out. Please don’t let this be just a vacation thing —were tangled in my throat.

Instead, I touched her cheek.

She leaned into it.

And then I kissed her.

It was slower this time.

Softer.

Like we were both trying to hold something delicate.

But make no mistake—

It still burned.

When her arms wrapped around my waist and her fingers slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, I forgot what restraint even felt like.

I backed us toward the bed, only stopping when the backs of my knees hit the edge.

She smiled against my mouth. “This bed’s a lot comfier than a truck.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

She kissed me again, deep, sure, completely dizzying.

And I let go.

Again.