Jaylynn
Unease prickles through my body as we continue down the long road leading to the country club, its grand silhouette tucked on the outskirts of town. The towering pines bend beneath the weight of heavy snow, branches groaning under the burden. The SUV fishtails slightly, tires struggling for grip on the slick road, and I clutch at the door handle like it’s a lifeline.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.” My voice comes out tighter than I intend, and I tug at my seatbelt until it bites against my shoulder.
Penn squints through the windshield as fat flakes slap against the glass. “Didn’t think it was going to come down this early.”
“Weather forecasters.” I huff. “They promise eight inches and deliver twelve.”
As soon as the words are out, Penn’s mouth quirks, his brow arching in that delicious way that makes my ovaries clench.
“That’s what she said.”
“Oh my God.” Heat flares in my cheeks. I smack his arm and he winces, dramatically, not because I actually hurt him.
“Careful,” he says, grinning. “I’m delicate.”
“Right. Delicate as a bulldozer.”
He flicks the wipers to high and cranks the heat, the SUV rattling in protest. “Do you want to turn back?”
I shake my head as the winding road curves and the massive country club comes into view, a hulking shadow against the storm. “We’re here now. Let’s just get in, grab what we need, and get out.”
The parking lot is buried under an unbroken blanket of white, so Penn just pulls up in front of the columned entrance and kills the ignition. Snow lashes sideways against the glass.
He leans forward, peering through the storm. “Want me to run in and get it?”
“Do you even know where it’s stored?”
“Nope. Never been inside.”
The words hang there, heavier than they should be. A reminder that even though he grew up in this town, the country club wasn’t his world. He belonged, but never really belonged. Everyone looks out for his aunt, sure, but they’re both outsiders, always orbiting the town without being fully in it. My chest squeezes. I want to fix that for him, to anchor him here, to make sure he feels welcomed. Wanted.
Loved.
I blink hard. No. Not loved. Liked. Just…liked.
Penn’s gaze slides over me, lingering on my coat and my ankle boots, the ones that are already a poor match for a light dusting, never mind a full-on snowstorm. I tug my mittens on in self-defence.
“Let me come around and get you,” he says firmly. “If I lose you out here, we won’t find you again until spring.”
Despite the storm, despite the nerves clawing at me, I nod. I watch through the fogging glass as he circles the SUV, shoulders hunched against a brutal gust of wind. The storm batters at him, but he moves with purpose, solid and steady, the kind of man who doesn’t back down from weather, or anything else.
And as he wrenches the door open and holds out his hand, something tightens deep inside me. Something warm, solid, safe. Something that makes the storm feel a little less terrifying. Even in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of chaos, he makes me feel safe.
I slip my hand into his outstretched one. A second later, his arm is firm around my waist, guiding me against the biting wind. Big, fluffy snowflakes the size of cotton balls, attack my face, sticking to my lashes until I’m blinking through a snowstorm of eyeballs. We half run, half stumble to the front door, laughing and swearing under our breath.
Shivering, I dig around in my purse until my fingers find the cold jangle of the oversized key ring. My hands shake so badly the keys rattle like sleigh bells. Penn takes them gently from me, his big hand brushing mine, and slides the right one into the lock with ease. The double doors groan open, and he ushers me inside.
The silence hits first.
“Spooky,” I whisper, hugging my arms around myself. My voice echoes in the cavernous foyer. “I’ve never been here alone. Or in the dark.”
“Do the lights even work?”
“They should. Maintenance comes once a week.”
Sure enough, with a decisive flick, the chandelier blazes to life. Dozens of glittering crystals spill light across the grand entrance, scattering shadows across the polished floor. We both pause, cataloguing the scene like intruders who’ve stumbled into a palace.