Page 37 of Made for Wilde

I nod, grateful for the simple question that requires no real thought.

"Please."

He pours a second mug and slides it across the counter to me.

"Sleep okay?"

I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah, fine. Your bed is really comfortable."

The lie comes easily, even as heat creeps up my neck.

"Good." He takes a sip of his coffee, then gestures toward the window. "Take a look outside."

I move to stand beside him, careful to leave space between us, and gasp at the sight.

The world has transformed overnight into a crystal wonderland. Every tree, every branch, every surface is encased in a thick layer of ice that glitters in the morning sun. It's breathtakingly beautiful. And completely treacherous.

"Wow," I breathe. "It's like a glass forest."

Koda’s voice is close enough that I can feel it rumble through me. "One of the worst I've seen up here."

"How long until it melts?"

"Forecast says temperatures should rise by noon. But even with the sun, it'll take at least a day for the roads to clear." He takes another sip of coffee.

I bite my lip. "I guess that means I'm stuck here for another day?"

"Looks like it."

My heart does a little flip.

Another day with Koda. Alone. In this cabin.

"Is that okay?" I ask, hating how uncertain I sound. "Me being here, I mean."

Koda gives me another one of those looks I can’t read.

"I wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't okay."

We drink our coffee in silence for a few minutes, both of us staring out at the frozen landscape. It's not uncomfortable, exactly, but there's a tension humming between us that wasn't there last night, Or maybe it was, and I just didn't recognize it.

"So," I finally say, setting my empty mug on the counter. "Are you still up for letting me practice on your hair today? I'd understand if you changed your mind."

Koda turns to face me fully, his dark eyes studying mine.

"I meant what I said. I trust you."

Those three words hit me harder than they should.

When was the last time anyone put that kind of faith in me? Certainly not my professors, who watch me like I'm going to set the school on fire with a curling iron. Not even Sarah sometimes, who insists on double-checking my work.

"Thank you," I say, meaning it more than he knows. "I'll just grab my bag from your room," I say, slipping past him. "I have my tools in there."

In Koda's bedroom, I quickly change into my now-dry jeans and shirt, though I keep his sweatshirt on. It's too comfortable to give up, and something in me likes wearing it, likes having his scent wrapped around me. Then I dig through my bag for my styling kit for the basic tools I always carry. I grab a pair of shears, scissors, a comb and a small bottle of styling product.

When I return to the main room, Koda has moved one of the kitchen chairs to the center of the living area. He's laid a towel on the floor beneath it and set a bowl of warm water on the side table.