Page 12 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“No.”
His poker face, if he had one, pretty much sucked.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Instinct told me he was probably lying, although I couldn’t fathom why. Maybe they were hunting something they shouldn’t be. Something illegal, or out of season, or—
“Hey,” he jumped in, extending a hand. “What do you say we sneak down to the kitchen and start breakfast?”
My stomach growled audibly, answering before I did. “Alright. Sure.”
“We need to hurry though,” Oakley groaned, wrinkling his nose. “If Ryder gets there first, he’ll insist on making his ‘specialty.’ Especially with a guest in the house.”
I chuckled at the face he made. “And what’s that?”
“Crunchy eggs.”
~ 6 ~
CAMRYN
I didn’t just eat breakfast, I devoured it. And I didn’t have seconds, I had thirds.
“I can’t believe we found someone who’ll eat your pancakes,” Ryder prodded Jaxon, while pointing his fork at me. “But hey, it’s her funeral.”
He winked at me, smiling devilishly as he bit down on another steaming hot biscuit. They’d come from a vacuum sealed roll, but they were fluffy, buttery, and totally delicious. Everything was, actually. And not just because I hadn’t had real food in a couple of weeks.
Behind me, the double-sided fireplace blazed away, radiating a pleasant heat into the kitchen. I found myself satiated. Cozy. Happy.
“The snow’s winding down,” noted Oakley. “Give it a couple more hours for the plow to make its way up here, and we’ll see about getting you home.”
Home. It sounded good in theory, but back at the cabin I didn’t have anything close to a spread like this. My barren fridge had no eggs, no toast, no bacon, ham, or sausage. Yet piled before me now, were several platters of each.
Reaching for the butter, I decided to make the most of it.
“Hot damn,” grinned Ryder. “She can eat.”
Some girls might’ve been offended, but this girl was hungry.Rationing food was something I’d learned early, and practiced often. Still, some of it was involuntary. When I’d left Florida, I’d seriously underestimated the costs of maintaining the little place I’d rented. On top of that, my car had betrayed me at least three or four times, probably in protest of being subjected to such bitter cold. By the time repairs were finished, the mechanic’s bills had eaten into a huge portion of my savings.
“Better fuel up,” said Ryder, pushing the pot of coffee my way. “We’ve got a lot of shoveling to do.”
“We’re not making her shovel!” cried Oakley.
Ryder looked back at him quizzically. “Why not?”
“Her hand. Remember?”
I’d almost forgotten about my bandaged hand. It was a little tender, but it no longer hurt. I’d wanted to take the bandages off, to see just how bad it was, but I also didn’t want to know.
“Oh yeah,” Ryder clapped his forehead. “Duh.”
“Duh’s right. Now pass me the sausage, before Jaxon eats it all.”
Jaxon hadn’t uttered a word since arriving at breakfast, where each of them fell into what I assumed were their usual tasks. I’d helped with the eggs, then was told to sit down as they finished the rest of the food in a flurry of pots, pans, oven and microwave.
The bearded giant sat across from me now, in a sleeveless tank that revealed two very enormous arms. The fact that those arms were sleeved with black and gray tattoos actually surprised me, as I didn’t peg him for the type.
“So, Camryn, where are you from?” prodded Oakley, between bites. “Because looking at your skin, you’re not from around here.”
