Page 24 of Stuck with Me

“What were ya trying to do anyways?”

“Last time I was here I decorated the Christmas tree. But I forgot the star at home. So I brought it with me this time.”

I quirk a brow at her. “And you thought standing on the coffee table was equivalent to a ladder?”

She shoots me a glare. “It usually works just fine.”

I stroll into the kitchen and tug open the freezer door. I find a tray of ice cubes and pull it out before searching drawers for plastic bags.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rosalie follows me into the kitchen.

“Getting some ice on that sprained wrist of yours.”

She yanks the tray from my grip and shoves it back into the freezer. “I’ll use these.” She pulls out a bag of frozen vegetables. “I’m saving the ice for my whiskey.”

I chuckle under my breath and shake my head. “Fine. Whatever suits your fancy.” I take the bag of frozen vegetables and wrap it in a towel.

“You may take your whiskey neat, but I’m a fucking lady and I like mine on the rocks.” She snatches the homemade ice pack from my hands.

“Rest assured, you ain’t no lady. Because I don’t know any who curse like you and who drink whiskey on the rocks.”

“Fine. You want a fucking lady?” She stomps over to the island and picks up the bottle of Jack Daniels before returning to me. “Can you please open this for me, you burly strong man? I’m just a lady and I’m too weak.” She rolls her eyes.

Heat unfurls in my chest and sends a thrumming heading south without permission. I don’t wanna be attracted to this woman, but God help me, I am.

“Ya know, I don’t appreciate your tone. But since you’re injured, I’m choosin’ to ignore it.” I snatch the bottle and twist the cap.

Rosalie takes two short tumblers out of the cupboard and tosses a few ice cubes into each glass before topping them off with a whole helluva lot of whiskey.

“You got a shot glass to measure those?”

“Why? You driving somewhere tonight?”

I glance out the nearest window and clench my teeth. The snow is falling in sheets of white.

“The snow is coming down too hard and accumulating too fast. I don’t think either of us are going anywhere tonight.” As she hands me a glass, her deep-brown eyes are challenging.

I don’t hesitate. I swipe the glass from her and challenge her right back while I gulp down most of the whiskey, ignoring the burn as it slides down my throat.

“How’d you get here anyway?” she asks before tipping back her glass.

“Designated Dean,” I say it like I’m asking a question I need reassurance for even though I don’t.

She snorts a laugh.

“He said to tell you,hi, by the way,” I add.

Shaking her head, she gives a wistful smile while she rolls her eyes. “Designated Dean is probably the nicest guy you’ll meet in Maple Ridge. You better have given him a good tip and a five-star rating.”

“Y’all have a thing back in the day or was it more recent?” It’s not appropriate for me to ask. It’s none of my business. But I can’t help that I still want to know.

“As shocking as it may be to you, how would you Southerners say it, I haven’trolled in the haywith every guy in Maple Ridge.”

“Well, now you got yourself thinkingIthink you’re that much of a catch that every guy would evenwantto roll in the hay with you.” I finish off my whiskey, set my glass down on the counter, and slide it in front of her, requesting a refill with my eyes.

Her jaw pops and I resist the urge to chuckle.

“I’ve had no complaints.” She finishes off her whiskey and refills both of our glasses.

---