My nostrils flare involuntarily, drinking it in.
Oxford lifts his head when I enter, but makes no move to get up from his spot by the fire.
“I have to warn you,” says Finn, “Oxford has become quite the pampered pet. I’m not sure he’s interested in downgrading back to barn life.”
“Everett!” Melody’s voice draws my attention to where she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing cards spread in front of her. Her blue eyes light up when she sees me, and my heart does a stupid little flip. “I hope you don’t mind that Oxford is inside. The lease agreement stated that pets were okay… and well, um, Oxford is kinda like a pet, right?”
Her cheeks flush as she speaks, a delicate pink that makes her eyes seem even bluer. Her scent shifts subtly, and the cloves intensify.
“I guess he is,” I say with a laugh. “I didn’t exactly have llamas in mind when I wrote the pet clause, but he seems happy here.”
I glance at Oxford, who’s watching me with what I swear is smug satisfaction. The traitor has never looked so comfortable and content.
“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Melody says. The vanilla in her scent becomes sweeter, balancing the delicate woody spice of clove as she smiles up at me. “Though he has strong opinions about scarf placement.”
“That sounds like Oxford,” I say, trying not to stare at the way her long blonde hair falls casually across her shoulder or how her blue eyes dance and glimmer in the firelight. “And I’ll reimburse you for the rental since Gabe and Finn have basically invaded your space.”
“What? No!” Melody protests, waving her hands. “I invited them. Well, drunk me invited them, but sober me agreed it was a good decision. The cabin’s too big for just me, and they’ve been wonderful company.”
“We’re the ones who should be paying,” Gabe says from his spot on the couch. He’s watching us with that quiet intensity that always makes me feel like he can see right through me.
“You guys are helping me out with the tree crisis. Nobody’s paying,” I decide. “Consider it my Christmas gift to all of you.”
Melody’s scent warms with what I hope is pleasure. “That’s incredibly generous.”
She looks up at me through her lashes, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. There’s something in her expression—curiosity and a little confusion—that makes me wonder if she feels it, too: this pull between us.
“Besides, I’m the owner. I make the rules. And that includes that monstrosity,” I say, gesturing to the fake tree in the corner. “Can’t have one of those here at Perfect Pines. It’s practically sacrilegious.”
Melody follows my pointing finger. “Are you tree-shaming me right now?”
“Absolutely,” I say, unable to hold back my smile. “I’ll bring one over tomorrow.”
“Well, now you have to stay and play cards with us,” Finn says, already clearing a spot at the table. “We’re playing poker, and I’m winning, which means these two are terrible.”
“I just came for Oxford,” I say, even as I’m desperately hoping they’ll insist. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s not an intrusion when you’re invited,” Melody says, patting the floor beside her. “Besides, Oxford clearly wants you to stay.”
Oxford most definitely does not look like he cares one bit if I stay or go. He blinks at me once, then rests his head back down on his hooves, the picture of indifference.
“Oh, and I brought these,” I say, gesturing to the pile of bedding. “Extra blankets. For warmth. Because it’s cold. Outside. In winter.”
Smooth, Pine. Real smooth.
“That’s so sweet of you,” Melody says, apparently choosing to ignore my verbal diarrhea. “But you have to stay for cards. We need a fourth player.”
She pats the spot beside her, her fingers linger on the carpet, as if she’s hoping I’ll take the seat. Her scent is inviting, almost beckoning.
Gabe takes the blankets from me, raising an eyebrow at the one from my bed, but says nothing. He knows exactly what I’m doing. His nostrils flare slightly, and a small smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
“Sit down,” Gabe says, nodding to the empty spot at the table. It’s not a request. “I’ll get you a beer.”
I shed my coat and settle in for the game, trying not to ogle like an idiot at Melody.
“So you’re telling me you spent your day doing spreadsheets for a stranger,” Finn says to Melody as he deals the cards. “That’s either the saddest or most on-brand thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It was fun,” Melody insists, organizing her cards. “And Bea was so grateful. Plus, I got her royal icing that actually works. My gingerbread houses might have structural integrity now.”