Page 41 of Seeds of Christmas
This Carter is dangerous.
Because this Carter makes me want things I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve.
9
CARTER
The cabin appears through the trees like something out of a postcard.
Or a horror movie. Could go either way, honestly.
It’s small—probably no more than 800 square feet—with dark wood siding and a green metal roof already buried under what looks like a foot of fresh snow. Smoke curls from the chimney in lazy spirals, which means Professor Bam wasn’t lying about someone from the forestry department prepping it for us.
Thank god. Because if I had to start a fire from scratch using, like, friction and determination, we’d both freeze to death and Professor Bam would have to explain to our parents that she sent us into the wilderness with zero survival skills.
“Wow.” Rhi says.
She’s been driving for the last hour, navigating increasingly sketchy forest service roads.
She drives with this focused intensity that I’m starting to realize is just how she approaches everything. Her brown eyes are fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift.
She’s pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail, but a few pieces have escaped to frame her face. They curl slightly in the humidity from the heater, soft and dark against her skin. She’s not conventionally gorgeous in that superficial way.
She’s pretty in a quieter sense—the kind that sneaks up on you. Warm brown eyes that see everything. A small nose that crinkles when she’s thinking hard. Lips that curl up at the corners even when she’s trying to look serious.
And her body—Christ, I’m trying not to think about her body, but I’ve seen her with thin layers on. Curves in all the right places.
Strong and soft at the same time. She bites her lower lip while concentrating on a turn, and I have to look away before I do something stupid. Like imagine what it would be like to bite that lip myself.
My mind flashes to last night.
When she opened the door her nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric. My mouth went dry and I couldn’t help tease her.
I know she saw me looking because her arms crossed over her chest, but it was too late.
I saw. I’mstillseeing.
I’m going to be thinking about that moment for the next five days.
Maybe the next five years.
“It’s actually really cute,” she says.
I clear my throat, willing my dirty thoughts to calm down.
“Cute” isn’t the word I’d use.
“Remote” maybe.
“Isolated” definitely.
“Setting for a murder mystery where we’re both found weeks later, perfectly preserved in the snow” possibly.
We lost good cell service about forty minutes ago—I know because I watched my last bar disappear somewhere aroundmile marker 47, right before the road stopped being paved. The last ten miles have been nothing but trees and snow and the occasional deer standing in the middle of the road.
It’s perfect.
Rhi pulls the truck up next to the cabin and kills the engine. The sudden silence is almost violent after hours of road noise and the diesel engine’s constant rumble.
