“I’ve learned this new skill. It’s called knocking.”

“Hmm, pity.” He closed the door in her face.

She grinned and knocked again. “You better be getting dressed in there. I don’t have all day.”

“Yeah, Neil. Get dressed,” Indi’s voice called. “We’re getting curious down here.”

Sydney whirled to see all three of them crowded at the base of the staircase. Oh, lovely. She hadn’t counted on having an audience for this.

Before she could say another word—either a polite request or outright demand for privacy—the door behind her opened again and an arm shot out, tugging her into the bathroom, her shriek colliding with the latch of the door.

Hot, humid air curled around her and she caught a glimpse of the still-steam-blurred mirror before Neil turned her to face him. Flannel shirt and jeans—she wouldn’t have expected anything else. But the shirt was still unbuttoned and the bare feet were a change.

“You had something to say?” He started buttoning his shirt.

She swallowed. “Um, well. I mean, I could’ve waited until you were . . . I didn’t really think . . . in here . . .”

His hands stilled near the top of his shirt. “Why do you have my coat?”

“Oh, um.” Another swallow. A deep breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it for a little longer.”

He dropped his hands. Pushed up his sleeves. Which meant maybe she wasn’t the only one getting overly warm in this small bathroom and that . . . that was a good sign.

“Is that so?”

So very close to smiling. “You see, it’s getting colder. And since I fully intend to show you that I am capable of milking a cow, I might need something a little warmer like this.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re very repetitive today. Two ‘is that so’s’ and you hmm-ed me three times.” She draped his coat over a towel hook on the back of the door. “Must be what lack of sleep does to you.”

“Some of us fall asleep in treehouses. Some of us get repetitive.” He took a step closer to her. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Yes, well, it’s just . . . I realized we never had that conversation you said we needed to have. The one where you tell me how you feel about me and I tell you how I feel about you and we figure out where to go from there.” She leaned against the counter, gripping it behind her, as if it could somehow steady her shaking voice. “S-so I thought I’d at least say my part—how I feel about you and where I think we should go from here. Which is nowhere. Because I like it right here. I want to stay right here.”

Finally. Finally, he was smiling, dimples and everything. Enough to make her breath catch as he closed the last inches between them, stretching out his arms to lean on the counter, his hands beside hers, trapping her between them.