Page 15 of Snow Much Trouble
There is obviously no disputing that. "Show-off."
"Says the woman who brought enough snacks to survive the apocalypse."
"Priorities," I defend. "You can't write good songs on an empty stomach."
“And yet, you barely touched your steak or your salad.”
“Lettuce isn’t actually food. It’s just fiber.” I never met a salad I didn’t want to pour eight pounds of ranch dressing onto.
We're back to glaring at each other, but it feels like an inside joke now. There’s something charged and playful and dangerous about it.
Dylan’s voice is rough and amused. "That's one way to put it."
Outside, the wind howls, and I can hear tree branches scraping against the cabin's roof.
Dylan flicks a flashlight on under his chin, illuminating his face in a bright white glow. “Want to tell ghost stories?”
“No. I really don’t.”
“Scared?”
“Of ghosts? Not in the slightest. Of your storytelling abilities? Yes, I’m mildly terrified.”
“You can’t be mildly terrified. The word means that it is, by definition, not mild.”
He’s right, which makes me want to tease him. “I literally can’t even.”
He opens his mouth.
I laugh. “No! Don’t even say it.” I turn on my heel. “I’m going to find some blankets.”
There is a chest in the family room that when I lift the lid reveals half a dozen neatly folded blankets. “The mother lode.”
Dylan checks on the fire, poking at it proficiently. He adds another log. His face is illuminated by the warm orange light dancing across his features. He looks like something out of a Hallmark holiday movie.
And now I’m wrapped in a plaid flannel blanket over my snowflake sweater thinking warm thoughts about a man I’ve just met. I wish the Christmas tree was still lit because this might actually be romantic.
Obviously unaware of my wandering thoughts, Dylan stands and moves to the window, his silhouette outlined against the white blur outside. "Can't even see the road anymore. It's completely covered."
I join him at the window again, and our shoulders brush as we peer out into the storm. The snow is falling so heavily now that I can barely make out the trees just twenty feet away. Everything beyond that is just a wall of white.
"We should take a walk outside," Dylan says. "Before it gets too bad."
"In this weather? Are you insane?"
"Just a quick one. Why not?"
Why not, indeed. “I’m always up for an adventure.” I glance down at my outfit. Red sweater with sequined snowflakes, dark jeans, fuzzy socks. "Though I'm not exactly dressed for arctic exploration."
"Come on, city girl. It'll be fun."
"I'm not a city girl! I grew up in North Carolina. We get snow there."
"How much snow?"
"Enough," I say defensively, though honestly, the most snow I've ever seen at one time was maybe three inches. This looks like it could be three feet by morning.
Dylan disappears into the dark hallway and returns a minute later with two heavy winter coats from the closet by the front door. "Here. Jolene keeps these for guests."
