188 A Suitor’s Claim and a Friend’s Suspicion
“What happened?” She grabbed my arm. “Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him? Are you sleeping with him?”
“I don’t have a ‘man troubles’ face,” I scoffed.
Heat crept up my neck. “It’s not—”
“No buts. Alistair was weak. Selfish. Easily manipulated.” She counted off his flaws on her fingers. “Sebastian Sinclair is none of those things.”
My phone buzzed with a message from Vera.
“Yes.” No hesitation, no apology in his voice. “I made my feelings known first. It’s only fair you give me priority.”
The thought of going back into the cold made me shudder. “I just got warm.”
“That’s what scares me,” I admitted quietly. “He’s so… intense. So certain.”
“Why do I feel like you have the air of a young woman in love again?”
“Wait,” Sebastian’s voice stopped me just as I was about to end our call.
“That’s not how-”
“You absolutely do. It’s the same face you had when Alistair forgot your birthday three years in a row.” She leaned closer. “Except this looks different somehow. Less annoyed, more… flustered.”
“Hazel.” His tone dropped lower, intimate in a way that made my skin tingle. “When you talk about other men with such admiration, it makes me jealous.”
“Snowman achievement unlocked!” Madison announced triumphantly, showing us photos on her phone.
“I know, right? It’s ridiculous.” But even as I said it, I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Yes?” My fingers tightened around the phone.
Two hours later, I pulled into Silver Pine campsite, the snow now falling gently around me. The forest looked magical-tall pines draped in white, the ground a pristine
blanket that crunched beneath my boots.
My breath caught. “Sebastian, I—”
Greetings were exchanged as I shed my coat and boots. The interior was surprisingly luxurious for a campsite-heated floors, comfortable seating, and a small but
well-equipped kitchenette.
“And yet you’re blushing.” She nudged me with her elbow. “You like it.”
The conversation turned to their snowy creation, giving me a temporary reprieve from Vera’s inquisition. But as the others chatted animatedly, Vera leaned close to me, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“That’s exactly how it works.” His words were velvet-wrapped steel. “You owe me that
much consideration, at least.”
“Oh my god.” Vera’s eyes widened. “It’s Sebastian Sinclair, isn’t it?”
“Ladies, this is Hazel, my best friend and the reason I have any fashion sense at all,”
Vera announced.
Her reply came instantly: “Just yourself and maybe some wine if you have it!”
Relief washed over me. Exactly what I needed-distance from my confused feelings and Sebastian’s increasingly bold advances.
“Must have been some talk to have you looking like this.” She narrowed her eyes. “What exactly did he say?”
The glass houses stood in a clearing-modern bubbles of warmth glowing against the darkening evening sky. I spotted Vera waving frantically from the doorway of the largest one.
I took a long sip of wine before answering. “He said he was jealous when I talked about
other men. Said he’d… staked his claim on me.”
For the first time all evening, my mind drifted back to Sebastian’s words. I’d made my intentions clear. I was first to stake my claim. Not a patient man.
Vera handed me a glass of mulled wine. “We were about to head out to build a snowman. Want to join?”
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“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been here almost an hour and haven’t once commented on the hideous curtains or offered to redecorate.”
“Liar.” Vera tucked her legs under her, settling in. “I know all your faces. This isn’t your work face. This is your ‘man troubles’ face.”
Vera’s eyebrows shot up. “Staked his claim? What is this, the 1800s?”
The call ended, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief. My heart hammered
against my ribs. Who did he think he was? Priority? Claim? The audacity was
breathtaking.
“Stay here then. We won’t be long,” Vera said, already pulling her boots back on. “The others are desperate for snow selfies.”
My silence was answer enough.
“Almost turned around twice,” I admitted, stepping into the warmth of the glass house.
## Hazel’s POV
“Vera!” I hissed, glancing toward the door. “Nothing happened. We just talked.”
I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “This is insane. After everything with Alistair, I swore I wouldn’t-”
Before I could respond, he added, “I’m not a patient man, Hazel. Not when it comes to you. Remember that.”
Inside, three other women lounged on plush cushions around a central fire pit. I recognized them from Vera’s regular social circle-Madison, a pediatrician with curly red hair; Ella, a dance instructor with a pixie cut; and Sophia, a soft-spoken librarian.
“I know that logically, but-”
But as I opened my mouth to deny it, I found I couldn’t form the words.
I glanced at the offending fabric-a garish pattern that indeed deserved criticism. “They’re not that bad.”
“First snow of the season! Me and the girls rented glass houses at Silver Pine campsite. Come join! Bring marshmallows!!”
Inside my house, I paced the living room, phone clutched in my hand. I should be
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offended by his possessiveness. Instead, I found myself crafting and deleting texts to let him know I’d arrived home safely.
Heat rushed to my face. “Your claim?”
I texted back: “On my way. Need me to bring anything besides marshmallows?”
The door opened again, letting in laughter and a gust of snow-laden air as the other women returned, cheeks rosy from the cold.
Yet I couldn’t ignore the warm flutter in my stomach. Sebastian Sinclair-powerful, enigmatic, practically royalty in business circles-was jealous over me.
Her words hit like a physical blow. Love? No. Not possible. Not so soon. Not after everything.
Vera refilled our glasses. “After years of Alistair’s wishy-washy bullshit, a man who knows what he wants sounds like exactly what you need.”
She flopped down beside me, pouring herself more wine. “So,” she said, studying me over the rim of her glass. “Want to tell me what’s got you so distracted?”
“These are hardly camping conditions,” I remarked, sinking onto a cushion near the
fire.
“I’m not distracted,” I protested automatically.
The door burst open, letting in a blast of cold air and Vera’s laughter. “Changed my mind. Too damn cold,” she announced, kicking off her boots. “The others are still determined to build the perfect snowman.”
“You absolutely do. Your entire face lights up when you talk about him.”
“Glamping,” Madison corrected with a grin. “All the Instagram appeal, none of the back
pain.”
“I do not.”
“Hey.” Vera’s voice softened as she pulled my hands away. “Sebastian isn’t Alistair. Not
even close.”
Why did his possessiveness excite rather than repel me? After Alistair’s betrayal, I’d sworn to never let anyone have that kind of power over me again.
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I sighed, staring into my wine. “It’s nothing. Just work stress.”
“I don’t like it,” he continued, cutting through my protest with gentle firmness. “I’ve made my intentions clear. I was first to stake my claim.”
Yet here I was, smiling into my wine glass like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
“See?” She pointed accusingly. “Totally distracted. Spill.”
“You made it!” She pulled me into a tight hug, taking the bag of supplies from my hands. “I was worried the roads would be too bad.”
I started my car, trying to focus on driving through the increasingly heavy snow rather than replaying his words. Failed miserably. By the time I pulled into my driveway, my
cheeks still burned.
As the door closed behind the giggling group, blissful quiet descended. I sipped my wine, watching snowflakes dance against the glass ceiling. The fire crackled soothingly.
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