Ran straight into Aidan, who also had a full armload of wood. “Door,” he directed.

She had no idea how it was that she was both annoyed and yet turned on by his bossy, take-charge tone, but she obediently shifted aside and opened the door. Aidan carried it all into her place and neatly stacked it next to the woodstove. “More?” he asked.

“No.” She watched as he rose to his full height and felt her good parts quiver again. Dammit. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The air between them thickened. “So,” she said. “You were surprised to see me.”

“Yeah. I was surprised to see you.”

“No one told you I was coming?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “No, though it would’ve been nice to hear it from you.”

“We hadn’t communicated since …” She trailed off. Since Ashley’s death.

No, that wasn’t quite true. He’d tried to get ahold of her after the service. She’d picked up one of his calls, and neither of them had known what to say.

The awkwardness of that conversation had stuck with her enough to cut the ties entirely.

“You got in to Boulder,” he said, referring to the University of Colorado’s pursuit of her. “Onto their ski team. A huge big deal.”

“Yes,” she said, trying not to grimace at the memory of being accepted into the one and only school Ashley had desperately wanted to ski for. It was guilt that had kept her from going, plain and simple. “So?”

“So you didn’t go. Instead you became a cosmetologist.”

She paused and arched a brow, going for a misdirect. “You think I’m beneath being a … cosmetologist?”

“I’m just curious about the transition,” he said easily.

“I decided Boulder wasn’t for me.”

“Why?”

She wasn’t used to the questions. It’d been a long time since anyone had gotten close enough to want to know about her personal life at all. Yeah, there’d been her ex, Michael, but it’d been more about work with him, and they’d never really gotten into each other’s pasts at all. And now she wasn’t sure how to answer Aidan’s question. “I was never a great student, we both know that.”

“Did you think Ashley would be upset at you for going?” he asked.

She had no idea how he did it, how he always put his finger right on her thoughts. Her private thoughts. “Maybe at first.”

“Lily,” he said with devastating gentleness.

“She was the one who wanted to go to college, Aidan. She was meant for it, not me.”

“Bullshit.” He was leaning back against the doorjamb, feet crossed, hands in his pockets, a casual pose, but there was nothing casual about his expression.

He didn’t like where she was going with this.

“I’m not stating an opinion here,” she said. “I’m stating fact.”