Page 18 of Snow Balled

“It’s a screenplay, actually.”

“Really?” His eyebrows rose, and for a moment, my heart pounded faster. He was a good-looking guy, with his tousled hair and his sexy blond stubble. “Going to try to make it big in Hollywood?”

My cheeks reddened. If he only knew how long that had been my goal and how hard I’d worked toward it. But in a very real sense, I was just starting out—as a screenwriter, that was. “Something like that, yes.”

“So, what’s your screenplay about? Can you name a character after me?” Tristan asked with a grin, and I couldn’t help laughing.

“I’ll think about it.” It was easier to answer his second question first. “As for the story, I’m writing the script from a female point of view. Where a strong, decisive woman is the lead instead of being just the love interest hanging off the hero’s arm.” Of course, the likelihood of a script like that ever getting made into a movie was very slim, but that was something I’d worry about later.

“Sounds like something Hollywood needs,” he replied. “Is it an action film or a rom com or—”

“A little bit of everything,” I said evasively. Partly because I didn’t feel confident enough in my writing to talk about it, and also because I hadn’t really nailed down a genre yet. Women’s fiction was a category for books, but it wasn’t really a category for movies. It seemed like these days, the only two choices for female-lead movies were romantic comedies or romances—and neither of those were what I wanted to write. “Hey, do you mind if I wash my clothes?”

I said that only partly to change the subject. The sleeves of the sweatshirt Drew had lent me were rolled up so much that they dug into my wrists when I typed. Plus, it would be nice to wear my own clothes.

Tristan studied me for a moment before answering. “Did they actually survive the journey yesterday?”

“I think so. There were a few rips in the leggings, but the hoodie’s okay.”

He nodded, then pointed to a door at the far corner of the living room next to a bookcase. “It’s through there.”

“Thanks.”

Obviously, it didn’t take me long to gather my clothes from the small bedroom. The leggings were torn a bit worse than I remembered, but if nothing else, I could wear them under the borrowed sweatpants for extra warmth.

The laundry room was bigger than the one in my cabin, which had the kind of washer and dryer that stacked on top of each other. The machines here were full-sized. If I ever did this again, I’d rent the bigger cabin and hire someone to chop down the trees around it so they couldn’t crash through the roof.

I was just adding the detergent when a voice came from behind me. “Hey.”

A yelp escaped my lips as I jumped. Then the lid of the top-loading washer came crashing down, the sound making me startle again.

Drew stood in the doorway to the living room. “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t doing a very good job of concealing the amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

My hand was on my chest, and I could feel my heart pounding underneath it. “I just didn’t hear you come in.” Belatedly, I realized that his hair and coat were wet. “It’s snowing?”

“Yep. Just started when I was out there.” He took off his coat, sending water droplets my way.

I stepped back, not wanting to get my feet wet. “Is that good or bad in terms of how damn slippery it is out there?”

Drew hung his coat up on a garment rack where some other winter wear was drying. “To be honest, I don’t know. Ask Carter; he’s the outdoorsman of the group. But I sure as hell will be glad when we can walk without slipping.” He moved past me and opened a small closet.

“What’s in there?” I asked curiously.

“This,” he said, pulling out a towel. Then he bent over and rubbed the towel vigorously over his thick, wavy hair. When he straightened up, his hair stuck up in all directions, but it didn’t detract from his handsome appearance.

“I meant to tell you earlier that there’s some stuff in the bins down at the bottom. I don’t know if it’s a lost-and-found or just crap that previous visitors left behind, but there might be something you can use, since most of your things are under a tree.”

Anticipation pulled me forward. Drew held the door back as I peered inside. Sure enough, there were two large plastic containers on the floor. I started to dig through one, but then realized that bent over like that, I was practically mooning the man behind me. Changing courses, I dragged a bin out into the middle of the laundry room. Then Drew did the same with the other.

Crouching down, I examined our find. There were some books. An old notebook. I set that aside because sometimes I liked to make notes on paper, rather than a computer.

“This might fit you,” Drew said. He held out a blue t-shirt that wouldn’t provide much warmth, but at least wouldn’t be so baggy on me.

“Thanks.” I took it from him and added it to the washer, which had just started agitating.

“Maybe leave it off until we see what else is in here,” he suggested.

That was a good idea, especially since I also found a fleece vest that looked to be around my size. But it was Drew that made the best find.

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