Chapter 168: An Unplanned Date

NORA’S POV

Knox pulled me out through the tall terrace doors, leaving the crowded ballroom behind.

The cold night air hit my face like a splash of ice water. Before I could shiver, Knox slipped out of his black tuxedo jacket and draped it over my bare shoulders.

The fabric settled around me, carrying the familiar scent of cedar and his clean cologne.

"Better?" he asked, looking down at me with a soft grin.

"Much better," I said, pulling it snug against my chest.

At the edge of the stone terrace, a private bar cart was serving hot drinks for guests stepping outside. Knox stopped and picked up two steaming ceramic mugs of spiced apple cider, each topped with a cinnamon stick.

"Hold on to me," Knox said, handing me one mug and taking my free hand.

He led me down a heated flagstone path flanked by tall, snow-dusted pine trees. Soft landscape lights glowed beneath the fresh powder, leading us away from the main lodge toward the resort’s glass-walled alpine solarium.

Knox pushed open the brass-handled door and stepped inside.

A wave of dry, radiant heat washed over us. The solarium was completely empty, glowing with soft amber lamps and twinkling fairy lights woven through potted indoor evergreens. In the center of the room, a low gas fire pit crackled quietly inside a circular stone hearth.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, the entire snow-covered valley stretched out below us, dotted with the sparkling golden lights of the mountain village.

"Sheridan," I murmured, taking in the view. "How did you even find this place?"

"Bear and I walked the grounds yesterday while you and your mom were resting," Knox said, steering me toward a plush leather sofa facing the glass wall. "I figured you’d need a break from the noise tonight."

We sat down side by side. I set my warm cider on the low table and leaned back into the soft cushions, letting out a long, heavy breath.

"That ballroom was a lot," I admitted, looking over at him.

"You handled Vanessa like a pro," Knox said, setting his mug next to mine. "She thought she could rattle you with her daddy’s money. She walked away looking like a total fool."

"Priya definitely helped with the legal threats," I laughed softly.

"Priya has zero chill, and I respect that," Knox smirked.

I reached into my small evening clutch and pulled out my phone. "Wait. We actually dressed up for once, and we don’t have a single picture together."

Knox raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "You want proof that I clean up nice?"

"I want proof that you can wear a bowtie without complaining," I retorted.

Knox chuckled and shifted closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me flush against his side. I lifted my phone, angling the camera so the glass windows and the snowy valley filled the background.

Knox leaned his head down, resting his cheek against mine.

I tapped the screen, taking a few photos. In the camera lens, Knox looked sharp, devastatingly handsome, and completely relaxed.

"One more," Knox murmured.

Before I could press the button, he turned his head and pressed a warm, unhurried kiss against my temple. My finger hit the shutter right as my lips parted into a wide, happy smile.

I lowered the phone and looked at the screen. The photo was candid and soft, capturing the quiet ease between us.

"Send that to me later," Knox said in a low voice, watching my screen.

"Already done," I said, setting the phone beside my mug.

I slipped my feet out of my emerald-green heels and let them drop to the floorboards with a quiet thud. I wiggled my toes, groaning in pure relief as the pressure left my arches.

"Feet hurting?" Knox asked.

"My arches have been screaming since six o’clock," I confessed. "Four hours standing on the concrete floor this morning, and then in three-inch heels."

Knox didn’t hesitate. He shifted on the leather cushions, reached down, and lifted my feet directly into his lap.

"Knox, you don’t have to do that," I protested, my cheeks warming.

"Quiet down, Bennett," he said calmly.

He took my right foot in his broad, warm hands. His calloused thumbs pressed right into the center of my arch, rubbing in slow, firm circles. A wave of tension released straight up my calf, and my head fell back against the sofa cushions.

"Oh," I breathed out. "That feels ridiculous."

"Told you," Knox murmured, working his thumbs across the ball of my foot and up toward my heel. His hands were strong and steady, applying the exact right amount of pressure.

I watched him as he focused on my foot, the firelight catching the sharp planes of his jaw. He had loosened his black bowtie, and the top button of his white shirt was undone, revealing the hollow of his throat.

"You’re remarkably good at this," I noted.

Knox glanced up, a flirtatious smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You know, Bennett," he said smoothly, his thumbs tracing along my instep. "I would have offered a full-body massage tonight... but the time and place isn’t exactly convenient."

A burst of laughter escaped my throat, my face burning red. I playfully nudged his ribs with my free toes. "You are completely shameless, Sheridan."

Knox caught my ankle with one hand, his grin widening. "I’m realistic. And extremely generous."

"You’re on heavy-lifting duty tomorrow morning," I reminded him, trying to keep a straight face. "Our varsity sous-chef needs his hands rested."

"My hands are fine," Knox said, switching over to my other foot with practiced ease. "And tomorrow morning, you and your mom are going to blow every single judge away."

I grew quiet, watching the snow gently drift against the outer glass.

"Do you really think so?" I asked quietly. "Vanessa’s pettiness aside... Moreau is good, Knox. His shop has three locations in Boston. He has culinary degrees from Paris."

Knox stopped his hands, keeping his fingers wrapped warmly around my ankle. He looked directly into my eyes with a serious expression.

"Degrees don’t bake bread, Nora. People do," he replied, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly tone that always settled my nerves. "Moreau bakes for his own ego. You and your mom bake with heart, technique, and thirty years of family history. I watched those judges eat your rolls this morning. They tasted the difference instantly."

My chest tightened with warmth. "Thank you, Knox."

"I’m just stating facts," he said softly.

He slid his hands away from my feet and reached out, cupping my chin between his warm thumb and fingers. He tilted my face upward, his eyes searching mine in the amber glow of the room.

"Think about where we were just a few months ago, Bookworm," Knox murmured, his thumb lightly brushing across my lower lip. "A fake tutoring contract. A ridiculous list of rules on a sheet of paper. You thought I was an arrogant jerk."

"You were an arrogant jerk," I pointed out with a faint smile.

"And you were the most stubborn, beautiful girl I’d ever met," Knox countered without missing a beat. "Now look at us. Sitting in a mountain resort, drinking cider, getting ready to watch you win fifty grand."

He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across my lips. The playful edge in his eyes melted into raw, steady heat.

"I love you, Nora," Knox whispered against my skin. "Win or lose tomorrow, there is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be."

"I love you too, Knox," I breathed.

Knox closed the tiny gap between us.

His mouth pressed against mine in a slow, deep kiss that stole every bit of air from my lungs. It was gentle at first, savoring the taste of cinnamon and warm apple on my lips, before his hand slid back into my curls, deepening the angle.

I leaned entirely into him, clutching the cotton of his white shirt as the heat between us chased away every trace of the winter chill outside. Knox groaned softly into the kiss, pulling me closer until I was tucked firmly against his broad chest.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together.

"That," Knox murmured, his lips curving against mine, "is how we settle pre-game nerves."

I laughed softly, my heart thumping rapidly against my ribs. "Consider them settled."

Knox glanced at his silver wristwatch. The glowing hands read twenty past eleven.

"We should get you to bed," Knox said with genuine reluctance. "Five-thirty comes early, and your mom is going to need you sharp."

He reached down to the floor, picked up my emerald heels by the straps, and held them in one hand. With his other hand, he helped me up from the leather sofa.

"I can put those back on," I said, gesturing to the shoes.

"Don’t bother," Knox said. "The carpets in the lodge are heated. Walk in your tights."

We finished the last sips of our warm cider and stepped out of the solarium. Walking side by side through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the main lodge, his fingers stayed woven tightly through mine, his jacket still draped over my shoulders.

We took the brass elevator up to the fourth floor in comfortable silence.

When we reached the wooden door of our suite, Knox stopped and turned to face me. He handed me my heels, then reached up to adjust the collar of his jacket around my neck.

"Sleep well, Bennett," Knox whispered, leaning down to brush one last tender kiss against my lips. "I’ll be at your station tomorrow morning with fresh coffee and an apron tied."

"Goodnight, Knox," I whispered back, a bright smile spreading across my face.

I unlocked the suite door and slipped inside. The room was dark and peaceful, save for the soft orange embers of the dying fireplace.

In the living room, Priya was already crashed out on the oversized sleeper sofa, dead to the world under a thick duvet with a pink silk sleep mask over her eyes.

I took off Knox’s jacket, holding it against my chest for a brief moment before hanging it carefully on the coat rack. Creeping quietly into the bedroom, I slid beneath the plush down duvet beside my mom.

For the first time all weekend, my mind was completely quiet. There was no anxiety, no doubt, and no fear of Vanessa Orwell.

Tomorrow morning, we were going to bake. And we were going to win.