Page 43 of My Rival for Christmas

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow…” The day I’m supposed to leave. He trails off, only to hastily add, “I usually pick him up in town after he parks his semi’s cab behind Dick’s.”

So he couldn’t come get us, anyway.

Oh, great. Great. Great. That’s just great.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I shift my stare, training it on the hunk of vintage metal. The shiny red exterior with a cream panel along the side starts to turn white as it continues to catch snowflakes, but what I need it to do is turnon.

Maybe the rage powering my veins will be enough to jump-start the thing. Jumper cables, shumper cables.

My eyes narrow to slits.Turn on.

Nate chuckles from somewhere behind me. Amusementoozesfrom the sound as I whirl around, giving him a lethal stare to shut him up.

Maybe if it can’t kick-start the car or dissipate frozen water, it can at least melt him, leaving me to simmer in peace.

“What?” I snap with panicked hostility. Does he not get we’re stuck here?

Nate isn’t even remotely put off by my tone or our reality as he leans against the stone fireplace, resting his forearm along the garland-covered live edge mantel. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his landscape tattoo he got when he was nineteen on full display.

Calm. Cool. Infuriatingly collected as he stares at me, his lips twitching. Eyes gleaming with an enjoyment I want to destroy.

“Nothing,” he tells me. “Just enjoying the view. And the knowledge that you’re probably trying to melt the snow with your mind.”

“I am not,” I reply indigently. But my cheeks heat with annoyance.

I don’t like how well he knows me. I don’t like him.

At least he doesn’t know about trying to start the truck with my mind.

“Mhmm,” Nate hums, rolling his lips together as he fights a smile. He tries to wipe it away by rubbing his beard in thought. “Of course not. Because that would be ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t sound anywhere close to sorry. ”But do you find our situation funny?”

“Our situation? No. You?” He stops fighting himself, unleashing a grin that only enrages me more. “Absolutely.”

I huff, inwardly stomping my foot.

Of course he does. Because why wouldn’t he? It’s sooo funny being trapped on a mountain in close quarters with the last person you want to share air with right now.

So. Fucking. Funny. I’m practically doubling over on the inside.With fury.

I ball my hands into fists, focusing on the pressure of my nails digging into my skin.

“Glad to know I’ll have to tell the EMTs to give you a CT scan when we’re finally rescued from this prison. Make sure you haven’t had too many ego inflations recently.”

Although as far as prisons go, this isn’t a horrible one. Company aside, of course.

“‘Preciate that, sweetheart.”

I stick my tongue out at him.

The cabin, while modest in size, is quite cozy. If not a little chilly from the log walls surrounding us.

It definitely has all the markings of a bachelor pad. Sport team logos decorate the walls, along with mounted fish, most likely from their trips up here. An outdated two-seater couch with an Afghan blanket thrown over the stained, lumpy cushions sits across from the fireplace, a live edge coffee table in front of it.

But among the raw manliness of the space, it’s also decorated for Christmas. Like the mantel and porch outside, garland is woven around the exposed beams on the ceilings, two stockings hang by the fireplace, and a tree adorned with lights but not ornaments, sits in the corner opposite of me near the large windows that overlook the mountains and lake.

“I can give you a tour if you’d like.” Nate watches me take in his home.

---