Page 99 of Big Dill

“But,” I add, already missing this place. “I kind of like this fantasy one a little better.”

Brody doesn’t hesitate. “We can come back next weekend.”

I shake my head, even though I love the idea. “No. I can’t keep you away from pickleball practice. My brother would kill me, and of course he’d start to get suspicious.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I guess we’ll just have to find other ways to slip back into this reality.”

I nod, even as something tightens in my chest. Because I want that. Want it too much. And my brother—God, my brother—would be crushed if he knew what we’ve been doing. What we’re still doing. This is wrong.

“Maybe,” I blurt, trying to sound practical instead of desperate. “If I did get my own place.”

The words hang there, completely at odds with the mental lecture I just gave myself.

Brody’s eyebrows lift, amused and pleased all at once. “That would work,” he says. “Although I do love having you in the room next to mine.”

I groan. “My brother can’t keep sleeping on the couch.”

“True enough.”

I jump up, pushing the chair back into place, wanting to leave the cottage the same way I found it, but with naughtier memories. “Is your mother going to be upset that we’re not having dinner at her place tonight?”

“Who says we’re not?”

I blink. “I guess I just assumed⁠—”

“Oh no,” he says, pointing at me with mock seriousness. “You can’t assume anything. We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“But I’m so tired.”

He grins. “Doesn’t matter, Little Birdie. There are rules. And not even you are above them.”

I can’t help it, I grin back, warmth spreading through me at the simple truth beneath the teasing. I belong. At least a little.

“Okay then,” I say, grabbing my bag. “Let’s get back. Maybe I can squeeze in a short nap before we go.”

“Please don’t talk about naps,” he growls, hauling the cooler outside and setting it down with more force than necessary.

I trail after him, overnight bag slung over my shoulder. “Why not?”

His eyes darken, heat brewing just below the surface. “Because when we get back, I’m going to be pissed that I can’t take one with you.”

I grin, loving the way this man wants me. Physically, I mean, of course. He loads the cooler into the truck and I jump into the passenger seat. He fires up the engine to warm it, and me, before hopping back out again.

“Stay put,” he says, already halfway back to the cottage. “I’ll grab my bag and do one last check.”

I watch him through the windshield as he moves through the snow, his body made for this kind of winter. Much like on the pickleball court, or in anything he does, his movements are confident, unhurried, completely at ease. My heart does a stupid little tumble in my chest. Honestly, how could Elise not have seen what she had in him?

The thought knots my stomach. Because maybe she did see it. Maybe she just didn’t appreciate it until it was gone. And now she’s back, wanting to fix her mistake.

Brody did say she was a city girl. Said she’d hated the quiet, the cold, the isolation of this place. Even if they did get back together, how could it work? There’s no way he’d give up what he’s built here to follow her back to the city, right?

The door opens and a rush of cold air floods the cab as he climbs in, his cheeks pink from the chill. He flashes me a smile and I once again forget how to breathe. “All set?” His eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”

“Just…it was fun.” I gesture out the window and work to pull myself together. Now is not the time to be getting all emotional. “Maybe we’ll see some more caribou.” That’s when it hits me, and I whack his arm.

“Hey,” he mock-grumbles, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

“You forgot to show me your moves.”