Page 6 of Snowed In with the Wrong Cowboy
“Fine. Yes.” She huffs. “I was just on the phone with her before I came inside. I don’t get why it suddenly…”
“Storm probably knocked out the tower. That’s the only way we get reception out here. One gust of wind and it’s gone.”
She stares down at her phone like sheer willpower will make it work. “Great.”
She mutters something under her breath that I don’t catch, but the frustration is clear on her face.
“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” I say with a smirk.
She scowls at me, and the idea that’s been forming since she walked through that door clicks into place.
My sister hates me. Has made that abundantly clear through two years of silence. And now here's her best friend. The one person Mackenzie probably tells everything to. The one person who knows all of Mackenzie's secrets.
Stuck here. With me.
How much fun would it be to mess with my sister through her best friend?
Not hurt her, I'm not that much of a bastard. But play a little. Push some boundaries. See how far good-girl Piper is willing to go.
And if Mackenzie ever finds out... well. Maybe it's time she remembered I exist.
“It’s freezing in here,” Piper says, motioning vaguely toward the cold fireplace like it personally betrayed her.
“The heat’s on,” I say, letting another smirk tug at my mouth. “But I’ve got a few other ideas for how to warm things up.”
She shoots me a look of pure disgust. “Fire. I meant I’d like to make afire.”
“Sure you did. You want me to do it?” I ask, letting the smirk curl wider.
“I’ve got it.”
“Sure you do.”
Her eyes narrow. “I can build a damn fire.”
“Then by all means,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “Show me.”
She stares at me for a long moment, clearly weighing whether this is a trap. Smart girl.
Then she kneels in front of the fireplace, reaching for the stack of kindling beside it. I watch her struggle with the arrangement for a solid two minutes before I take pity on her.
“You're doing it wrong.”
“I know what I'm doing,” she barks.
I push off the wall, moving to crouch beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. “You need smaller pieces at the bottom. Build up to the bigger logs.”
“That's what I'm doing.”
“No, you're making a pile. There's a difference.” I reach past her, rearranging the wood. My arm brushes hers and she goes still. “You need air flow. Otherwise it'll just smoke.”
“I was getting to that.”
“Sure you were.”
I sit back on my heels, pulling a lighter from my pocket. One click and the kindling catches, small flames licking up through the carefully arranged wood.
Piper's quiet for a moment, watching the fire grow. “Show off.”
