Page 13 of Say It Isn't Snow
“I should make you sleep in your car,” Holly mumbles testily.
“If that’s what you want me to do, I will.”
It’ll be cold as fuck, but I’ll manage. If she needs time and space to cool down, I can do that for her.
Her lips part and her gaze softens from anger to surprise. She eyes me like she’s waiting for me to take back the offer, because no one in their right mind sleeps outside during a blizzard when there’s shelter right there.
She whirls around and heads for the door. “Let’s go in. It’s too cold out here, and I don’t want my clothes getting wet with snow again.”
I follow her inside, setting my equipment bag and suitcase next to the shoe rack my grandpa carved when I was a kid. My family’s cabin smells exactly the same as I remember, like being wrapped up in nature by the scent of cedar mixed with pine andwoodsmoke. It’s comforting to be back after so much time away. I spent countless summers here. It’s one of my favorite places.
As I survey every familiar corner, I pause on the cast iron fireplace. There are logs inside, but no fire crackling.
Toeing off my boots so I don’t track snow across the hardwood floor—my grandmother and mom’s admonishments a permanent echo in my head—I take a knee and open the door. The logs are stacked in a way that traps airflow and there are ashen remains of several fire starter scraps.
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
Holly leans over the island separating the kitchen from the sitting area. “I got to enjoy the peace of having the cabin all to myself for one whole hour before you showed up.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. She goes back to organizing baking supplies and ingredients on the counter. I’m momentarily distracted by the sweater she has on, fingers twitching with the urge to play with the dangling bow strings at the neckline. I register how many layers she’s wearing and connect the dots with the lack of burning wood to heat the place.
“Did you have trouble starting the fire?”
Something clatters in the kitchen and she blurts several curses under her breath. I cover my mouth and try to smother the smile on the verge of breaking free.
As I rearrange the logs, I explain, “There are different ways to stack your firewood. It helps it catch easier and ensures it burns efficiently. You did a good job. You almost had it.”
She mutters something from behind me after creeping closer to watch. It sounds like she’s parroting my instructions in a mocking tone to herself.
I move so she can see what I’m doing better and point out the optimal method for starting the fire. She crouches beside me, taking in the information despite the fact she doesn’t look happy about me being the one to teach her.
My entire side heats with awareness of her close proximity. It would take nothing to close the small gap just to feel her shoulder bumping into my arm.
“See? You just needed to make an adjustment to put the bigger pieces at the bottom, and orienting them this way in the stove will keep it burning all night long.”
Her eyes narrow. “I would’ve figured it out eventually.”
“I know. You’ve always been a smart girl.”
She catches me watching her and looks away before I can hold her gaze longer. I light the kindling and keep an eye on the logs until they catch. When I’m satisfied with the growing flames, I ease the door shut and peer at her from my periphery.
Holly closes her eyes in contentment, shuffling closer to the fireplace.
“Better?” I ask softly.
Her mouth tugs down at the corners and she reaches across me to pull her damp boots closer to the stove. “I could’ve done this without you. I just got sidetracked.”
I smirk. The attitude she gives me isn’t off-putting in the slightest. Her sharp tongue has always captivated my desire. It feels like warm maple syrup spilling into my stomach. I push my fingers into my hair to keep from tracing the shape of her mouth to relearn it.
“Do you want any help with that stuff in the kitchen? Looks like you were about to make something.”
“I’m going to stay here for a minute.” She begins shedding her extra sweater layers. “This feels so nice.”
Her hum fills my head with dirty ideas of all the ways I can get her to make that sound again, each one more appealing. Hell, I need a distraction before a simple noise from her gives me a boner.
Entertaining fantasies of her for years is going to make my self control go to shit finally having the real deal in front of me again.
I busy myself taking my stuff to one of the bedrooms upstairs, leaving the biggest one for her. There are a few missed messages hidden within my muted notifications that came in hours ago. The internet’s out and there’s no cell signal when I check my phone, which is fine by me. I want to be shut off from the world.
