Page 9 of Up to Snow Good
Four
Amari
Ipeered up at the clock, trying to decipher the time.
The wine had turned sour. I pour another glass. The bottle was empty. How much had I drunk already tonight?
Asshole.
I placed my hands on my hips and stomped my foot. A little tantrum was in order. No one else could see me. So why hold back? Ipeered out through the window. An ominous fog settled above the ground, and light snow flurries fell.
I wore black stockings and a thick, red sweater dress. It hugged my curves but offered little warmth. The chill seeped under my clothes. I shivered and shut the door.
I ran back into my room and pulled on my leggings and my snow boots. I swung the door open, resolved in my mission. The bittercold didn’t seem as biting as I stepped out.
Hypothermia was no match to blind rage.
Still, I grabbed the blanket off the chair, flung it out from Caden’s tidy folding, and wrapped it around my shoulders. I proceeded down the path towards the shed. The moon was high in the sky, reflecting off of the snow. If I weren’t in such a shittymood, it would beromantic.
As I got farther into the woods, the snow covered up the path, and I must’ve gotten off track because the next thing I knew I was ankle-deep in snow. The shed appeared around the bend.
The rectangle building with itssteep pitched roof did not show the configuration inside.
I took a few more steps.
“Shit."
My fingers stiffen in the cold. My ears stung. No worries, it wouldn’t take me long to rip him a new one and return to my toasty home.
I’ll scream. He’ll smirk and not say a word. He won’t defend himself. He won’t fight for me. It was his MO. He was, if nothing else, predictable.
My display of anger wasn’t for him. It was for me. It would make me feel goodto finally tell the almighty, unshakable Caden Davidson exactly what I thought of him.
I reached the steps, took one, and slipped down the next three. I landed hard on my ass.
“Ow.” I rubbed it and pulled myself upright.
The snow soaked through to my panties.
Ice crystals stuck to the blanket.
I rubbed my ass and banged on the door.
My hand stung from hitting the cold, hard, steel surface.
I knew the combination to the keypad, but making him get up off his ass, open the door, and inconveniencing him was my goal.
I wanted him to hear me coming. I banged on the door again.
The door flew open mid-knock. My hand remained balled into a fist in the air. If I took a lunge forward, I could punch him in the chest.
His hard bare chest.
Heat flashed through my system.
If I could imagine the most improbable impact of seeing him again, he would be exactly how he is now. Bare-chested with a white towel wrapped around his narrow waist. His arms rose over his head and settled on the doorframe. His chest muscles flexed and caused hisnipples to bead. My gaze followed the taut muscles of his abs down.
The smirk on his face remained along with a bemused expression as he stared at my still raised balled fist.
