PENNY

Since Chase isn't giving clues about his mystery heart throb, I pinch my book back and flop on the couch, curled up at one end. It's almost finished now. I've grown fond of these characters, so the thought of saying goodbye saddens me, yet I've still got a bunch of other books that I'm looking forward to reading. I need to make more of an effort to do this more often once I return home.

After a few hours, I reach the epilogue. With a warm smile and a tear in my eye, I close it for the last time. Wiping the stray tear, Chase moves past me and places a pile of logs by the fire. I hadn't even realised he'd left the room. I'd been so engrossed in the love story between the pages.

I watch him conspicuously as he stands tall, raising his arms above him to stretch. His gaze wanders in my direction and our eyes meet. He holds my stare for a moment before a small grin appears. There's a strange twinkle in his eye, like he's up to mischief. My pulse seems to rise and my tummy backflips. What's going on? His eyes drift over towards the kitchen and then back at me.

"Something I can help you with, stalker?" I say.

Narrowing his eyes, he tips his head. "Penny," he says with a sigh.

There's a strange countenance in his voice. "Yeah?" I reply.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asks.

The pain in his voice gives me goosebumps, as the guilt eats at me. I have been abrasive towards him. Part of it is just me being myself, but honestly, I'm probably taking some of my frustration with Kyle out on him, too.

I wriggle in my chair, uncomfortable from being called out. Heat flushes my cheeks as we make eye contact, sighing.

"I don't hate you, Chase. It's just," I pause sucking in a breath. "Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of him."

Chase places a finger to his chin, playing with the end of his beard. "You know I'm older, right?"

"Does that make a difference?" I say, scrunching my face.

"Well, yeah. Quite a lot actually," he says matter-of-factly. I observe him trailing over to the kitchen window. "I think there's a storm coming. It's getting pretty dark out there, and the wind is picking up." He turns to me. "I'm glad I found you when I did. I'd hate to be lost out there right now. That's if I wasn't dead and buried by the snow already."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," I deadpan.

His brows furrow, then snaps out of it. "I know. I've been down that road before."

"Huh?" What's he mean by that?

Chase waves a hand in the air. "It's nothing. Don't worry your pretty little mind about it."

"Pretty little mind?" I reply. "I don't know whether that's an insult or a compliment."

He focusses on me. "Would you prefer an insult over a compliment? Something tells me that's more your scene."

"My scene?" I say, unable to find a smart comeback, crossing my arms.

Chase lets out a chuckle. "You're so easy to rile up, Penny." He potters around the kitchen as he switches the stove on, placing a saucepan on a burner.

"I suppose you think you know me. Would that be accurate, Chase?" Getting up from my seat, I head to the table and sit, crossing my ankles on the seat of another chair.

He clears his throat, putting down the knife atop the chopping board. "I know enough."

Leaning back in the chair, I swing on the back feet, staring at him. "Oh really? If you know me so well, you won't mind a little challenge then."

A sly smirk creeps up the side of his face where I'm looking, but his eyes remain firmly on the chopping block. "I love tests. Bring it on, baby."

"What's the stakes then?"

"Hmm," he says, looking around the room, before stopping at the window, then returns to me. His voice lowers, almost sultry. "If I get five questions right, then you let me stay here tonight."

"And what's in it for me?"

"I'll cook you dinner."

My brows raise. "You're already cooking dinner. Which, by the way, you didn't even ask me if I was Ok with that."

He points the knife, offering it to me. "Would you like to take over?"

"No. You look like you're doing just fine without my help. But it's not a real bet without stakes. So, what are you willing to offer up?"

"If I lose, I'll make dessert too. How do you feel about brownies?" he says grinning.

Appealing to my sweet tooth is sly, but reluctantly I accept. I'm certain the odds are in my favour anyway, and he'll be out on his ass in no time. Wait – after he finishes cooking dinner.

"Oh, yeah?" He nods, confirming the deal. "You're on."

Chase throws a handful of vegetables in the saucepan. "Ready when you are."

"Ok, wise guy. First question. A nice easy one to get you started. What's my favourite colour?"

He rubs his chin again and looks at the ceiling. "Well, your favourite colour to wear is black, but I don't think that's your actual favourite colour." Chase looks at me, seeking a hint, but he finds none.

I raise a single eyebrow in challenge. "Clock's ticking, genius."

He stares at me, locking eyes. There's that twinkle again. "Blue," he says, confidently.

"Lucky break." I raise one finger, showing the tally so far. "Next one will be harder." He smiles tilting his head. "Alright then. Where did I go on my last holiday?"

Chase takes a step back from the stove and leans his elbows on the counter, bending at the waist. "That's easy. You haven't taken a holiday in the past decade. Well, at least while you were with – you know who. But if I recall correctly, you had just got back from a big overseas holiday right before you got together." He pauses, and holds my stare, as if seeing into my very being, or reading my mind somehow. "I want to say, Italy."

He's not as confident as he was with the first question, but he's right, of course. But how does he even remember that conversation? It was so long ago. I clear my throat, holding up a second finger.

"Don't get too cocky there, mister. You still have to get three more questions correct."

"Go ahead," he replies, waggling his brows.

"OK. I'll definitely be surprised if you get this one right," I say, arching my brows whilst crossing my arms, challenging him. "If I could choose a superpower, what would it be?"

Chase tips his head and smirks, clearly impressed by the question. "Ooh, finally a challenge. I like it. I'll have to use my powers of deduction for this one. Let's see..." His voice trails off, eyes turn towards the ceiling as he thinks. Giving little grimaces and shaking his head, he quietly sifts through the options, contemplating each one carefully. With a wide grin, he turns and faces me. "Mind reading."

My eyes narrow, fixed on him. There's absolutely no way he could know that. He must be guessing. But I'll let this play out a little first. "And what made you choose that specific answer?"

"Well, you like to appear abrasive. That others' opinions don't matter at all to you. But, deep down, you care quite a lot." He stops, then adds. "More than you should."

"Hmm," I mumble at the discomfort. There's an air in the comment that both cuts me and warms my heart. There's honesty in his words, even if I don't want to admit it to myself. Chase is a bit of a dark horse, it seems, and more perceptive than I gave him credit for. How much more does he know about me?

I cringe, slowly raising a third finger. With a grin that stretches from ear to ear, he proudly celebrates his well-deserved victory.

For my next question, I need to knock this guy off his high horse. "Since you appear to know me so well, this is a two-for-one question. Tell me two hobbies that I enjoy –"

Chase opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Other than reading," I snap.

His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find the right answer, and I can't help but smirk. I might have him on this one. Brownies, here we come.

A smug smile forms on his lips. "Writing," he says, sounding a little shaky, like he's not quite sure if he's got it in the bag. "And drinking wine?"

"Ha," I blurt. "Drinking wine isn't a hobby. You lose."

"I was half right then," he declares.

"Perhaps, but you still only got four out of five. You best get to it then. Brownie mix is in the top right cupboard," I say with satisfaction. "And it better be worth it, or you'll be out on your ass in this storm."

"Never fear, my baking skills are next level," he beams. I roll my eyes and scoff at the confidence. With a theatrical gesture, he clutches at his chest, feigning shock. All I can do is shake my head and laugh.

After choosing my next book, I read until I fall asleep. When I wake an hour later, my belly rumbles at the smell of Italian food blended with chocolate. Ambling to the kitchen, Chase is pulling a bake of some kind out of the oven, but on the bench behind him, I spot a tray of brownies cooling on a rack.

Stealing a little piece of chocolate heaven, Chase scowls over his shoulder at me. "Hey, that's for later." He tries to swat me with the tea towel, but I step away quickly, shovelling the little treat into my mouth.

Oh man, it's delicious. I've made this packet mix a million times before and it's never tasted this good. Through my mouthful, I groan with delight. "Oh my God, Chase."

He shakes his head and deadpans. "Such a lady."

Chase serves up our meals, and we eat at the little table. Conversation flows easier tonight, revisiting his answers from his test earlier. Since he cooked, I insist on doing the dishes, ordering him to go relax by the fire. It seems only fair.

Cooking a feast demanded the use of almost every item in the kitchen, or at least the bench tops appear that way. But I get it cleaned up in no time. When he hears the sink drain, Chase suggests we watch a movie, which I'm more than happy to agree to. He stokes the fire as I pour two glasses of wine.

Chase is sifting through the various DVDs on the shelf when I approach. Trying to be more graceful, I pass the overfull glass towards him. As he grabs hold of the glass's stem, his fingers brush against mine, and his eyes shoot up. He holds my gaze and caresses a finger along mine. A strange feeling twirls in my stomach, and a shiver runs down my back. What is this? Attraction? It's too soon, and besides, I can't be attracted to him. To Chase. No, it's weird and wrong. He's Kyle's brother, for crying out loud.

"Take it," I say, shifting my eyes to the glass.

"Thank you," he says in a low voice.