Page 33 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

“‘We’?” he asked, his eyebrows raising slightly.

I felt like an idiot as I said quietly, “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’d want to spend the day with me.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, standing up to stretch. “I’m just surprised you want to. I stayed out of your way yesterday because … well, I thought you wanted that.”

“I did.” I laughed. “But then I changed my mind. You know, I’ve had far too much time to myself lately. I’m finding that I’m a little more extroverted than I thought. So maybe it’s partly that.”

He looked at me intently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“Well, let’s get some breakfast. Do you mind dry cereal? I’m all out of eggs.”

“It just so happens I love dry cereal.” I grinned and followed him out of the room. “And I do mean completely dry. Not even milk. I know, you probably think I’m a weirdo, like most people do.”

When we reached the kitchen, he turned back to me. “You are an unusual woman. But not because of the dry cereal. I’ve tried to reduce dairy lately and have been surprised to find that dry cereal is delicious without milk too.”

My cheeks warmed as I dwelled on his first sentence. He thought I was an unusual woman. In a good way or bad way? That could mean so many things. I wanted to ask, but—no, I shouldn’t.

I didn’t trust myself to respond appropriately regardless of his answer. “Just please tell me you have options besides plain cornflakes. That’s the one cereal I can’t abide.Won’tabide.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, almost smiling. I had to look away, just in case …Quick, think of something else to talk about. Fast!

“Hey, do you have board games?” I blurted. “That’s a fun way to pass time.”

“I have a few somewhere in the basement. We can go down there and look after we eat.”

“I’m not sure why going into your probably dark, spooky basement sounds exciting, but it does.” I laughed as we started eating our cereal at the kitchen island.

And then it happened.

His mouth curved upward on both sides, just a few millimeters, but it was enough.

I couldn’t look away. Holy crap, his smile was stunning. He was beyond handsome. How was he still single?

His eyes suddenly blinked rapidly a few times, and he almost choked on his cereal. “Pardon?”

Oh no, had I said that aloud? “Uh, what? I didn’t say anything.”

“You asked how I was still single,” he said slowly, his brow furrowed.

I avoided his eyes. “Well, no. I didn’t say that,” I lied.

“You didn’t? What did you ask then?”

When I finally dared to look at him again, I saw amusement in his eyes, and I let out a sigh that may have sounded like a groan. “OK, maybe I did.”

He pressed his lips together, as though trying not to laugh. “I’m single because I want to be.”

“Oh, uh, OK.” I played with my spoon a bit. “Not that I care. But why?”

He looked confused as he chewed. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to be single?”

He looked down at his cereal bowl for a long moment and then raised his eyes to meet mine. “I like being single. Only worrying about myself. The women I’ve dated—well, let’s just say they were demanding. Selfish. Superficial. Undoubtedly, they wanted me for my money.”

For some reason, when he referred to women from his past, I felt my stomach turn.“It sounds like you’re terrible at picking women then. We’re not all like that.”

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