Page 14 of Unexpected Company
Throwing him some slack, I bypass the little slip of tongue and say, “Well the place is not big enough for the both of us, so when the storm passes, someone has to leave.”
“It won’t be me,” he says firmly.
“Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way.” I pause for effect, his eyes not moving from mine. “With a game of poker. Loser leaves when the storm passes.”
Garrett smiles, fine lines stretching out from either side of his hazel eyes as he leans closer to me, his arm brushing mine as he does. There’s a sizzle of electricity between us. I lick my lips and his eyes darken, following the motion of my tongue.
“You have a deal, Short Stack.”
“How the fuck did you do that?” Garrett asks, pushing the cards and the dried pasta shells we used as chips off the table, then immediately grumbling about the mess and scooping them all back up.
After we finished eating, I took a quick shower and changed into pjs and now we’re sitting in the lounge, the soft glow of the fire warming the space and filling it with a calming, woodsy scent. Garrett is sitting in a brown leather armchair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and I’m opposite on the sofa, my legs folded beneath me.
I’ve made us a night time berry tea, perfect for this weather, and he’s sipping on his, his nose wrinkled like it’s offended him. His hazel eyes shine as he watches me, waiting for an answer. He’s an attractive man. His beard is neatly trimmed, his bottom lip pink and plump, and when he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up earlier, I was greeted by thick arms, with prominent veins and a scattering of dark hair. My mouth practically watered. It’s taking a lot of my self-restraint not to flirt with him. First, I don’t know if he’s into guys, and second, I don’t think he likesme. Especially not now that he’s lost the poker gameandthe rematch and the cottage.
“I’ve taken part in loads of poker challenges,” I reply, dusting my hands theatrically over my reindeer print hoodie. “Lost my car in a game once, but won a really cool inflatable Santa once, too.” I grin to myself over the memory of those videos. Liam was pissed that I gambled with my car, but the video went viral and I made enough off the back of it to buy a new one. I didn’t though, because I hate driving, so I used the money to put a pool in my backyard.
“You tricked me,” Garrett announces, his voice gruff.
My mouth falls open in mock indignation. “I did not! I simply suggested a game of poker. Not my fault you automatically presumed I’d be shit at it.”
He grumbles and leans back against the chair.
“I’d suggest another card game, but I’m going to guess you’re a savant at most of them?”
I shrug. “Pretty much. Sorry big guy, guess this means you’re trekking into the village tomorrow to find somewhere else to stay?”
Garrett stands abruptly, a scowl back on his face as he moves through the lounge to the desk where an old typewriter sits next to a laptop. He closes the screen and slides it under his arm.
“I’m going to bed,” he announces and I hop off the sofa, coming to stand in front of him.
“Um…why do you get the bed?”
He points to his head, then gestures down his frame. “Have you seen the size of me versus the size of that sofa?”
I glance behind me and then back at him in all his mountain man glory and yep…he has a point. His legs would hang right over the edge.
“Fine. It’s only for a night, anyway.”
Grabbing the snuggly duvet I brought through from the room earlier, I go to wrap it around my shoulders when it is rudely yanked out of my hand.
“I need this,” he says.
I’m pretty sure I growl, or attempt it – some unhappy noise rumbling from my chest – because now he’s not only taking the bed from me, but the blanket too!
“And what will I use?” I have my weighted blanket, but it’s not nearly warm or big enough to be my only bedding for the night.
He points to the fleece throw on the single armchair.
“You’re a really sore loser,” I mutter, retrieving the fleece throw and my weighted blanket and attempting to fashion a comfortable bed from it.
“You get the entire cabin from tomorrow. One night on the sofa is hardly a hardship.” Garrett turns on his heel, flicks the light switch off, and walks down the hallway, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Novel writers who look like sexy mountain men are actually big assholes, and I dislike them very much.
Laying the fleece on the sofa, I lie on top and burrito myself in my blanket, in a futile attempt to get comfortable. I wish I could turn my phone on and check what people are saying about me or, at the very least, scroll for hours until my eyes grow heavy, forcing me into a deep slumber. But that’s not an option, so instead, I squeeze my lids shut and try to sleep.
The fire crackles and there’s a constant tapping against the roof that I hope is a branch and not something nefarious like... a wolf or a bear or whatever lives this deep in the woods.
