Page 11 of Snow Balled

He had on a gray sweater and jeans, and looked to be in work mode, unlike Drew, who seemed happy for a distraction.

“I slept like a log,” I said. “Now I’m all stiff.”

“Understandable, after that climb we made yesterday,” the taller man said. “We did stretches for a half hour this morning to work out some of the stiffness.”

Somehow, I could imagine what this man was like when he exercised. He struck me as a dedicated and disciplined type. There were a lot like that in LA.

Drew rolled his eyes in a playful way. “It was only ten minutes for me,” he said with a wink. “But Tristan’s almost thirty.” He said that last part in a whisper, as if revealing something shameful.

But Tristan—now I knew another one of their names—didn’t even look up from his typing. “I’m twenty-eight.”

Drew raised his eyebrows, as if that still sounded old to him. “I’m twenty-five. How about you?”

“Twenty-three.”

Tristan’s gaze finally left his laptop as he looked over. “Seems a bit young to be a writer.”

I shrugged. It didn’t feel that way to me. My acting career had started a decade and a half ago.

The taller man was still studying me, and I forced myself not to squirm under his gaze. “Or maybe I should say it seems a bit young to be out in the middle of nowhere by yourself.”

“Hey, but look how well that turned out,” Drew said, and I didn’t know whether to shake my head or return the grin he shot my way. Except for the fact that I wasn’t injured, it had turned out about as bad as it could.

Well, except these men seemed to be okay guys. Not that I’d met a lot of those among the actors I’d worked with, but Tristan and Drew seemed nice enough. It probably wouldn’t be too uncomfortable hanging out here until the cabin company could get me out of here.

“Can I get you something to eat? There are some eggs and bacon left over,” Tristan said.

“Plus, we’ve got cereal,” Drew added.

Tristan raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Yes, that’s always popular with the young‘uns.” That was apparently a dig at Drew, who just grinned even more good-naturedly. “Or if you need the bathroom, it should be free in a few—”

He didn’t need to finish that statement, because we all heard a door open. Steam poured out into the hallway, and then a clean pine scent reached my nose.

A tall figure emerged from the hallway and drew every eye.

Holy.

Shit.

Involuntarily, I took a slow step back toward the small bedroom while my heart pounded in my chest.

My third rescuer locked eyes with me, and my system went into overdrive.

He was drop-dead gorgeous.

The bare skin of his sculpted chest and arms was wet and glistening. A long white towel was wrapped low around his waist, leaving very little to the imagination.

But it was his face that took my breath away. His piercing brown eyes bore into me across the room, pinning me in place as effectively as the tree yesterday. Dark brows topped those piercing eyes, along with thick lashes that I only achieved with the help of makeup. His strong jaw was covered in black stubble. His full lips were twisted into a smirk as he gazed at me.

His sheer masculinity overwhelmed my senses like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and that was saying something given that I’d worked with many gorgeous actors. The only A-lister I’d ever acted opposite was Aiden Hunt, star of the action flick we’d filmed last year. He was the real deal, an international heartthrob.

Yet this half-naked man surpassed even Aiden. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, which also made him the most dangerous.

The smirk stayed on his lips as he surveyed me, and I had an absurd urge to straighten my hair. But that was ridiculous—I wanted to get away from him, not capture his attention.

Except it hadn’t wavered from me in nearly a minute.

Finally, he spoke. “See anything you like?”

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