Snow clung to the windshield, fluffy flecks of white that’d been falling for the better part of the trip. I’d done my best to keep the anxiety low. I hated driving in snow, rain or even when it was too windy. The fear of an accident was high.
Reaching for the dash, I dialed Mom’s number. The car filled with the sound of ringing until a familiar voice broke through.
“Did you make it?” There was no typical greeting, just the worried response of a parent.
I smiled, my gaze still fixed through the windshield. “Yeah, I made it.”
“How’s the weather over there? I heard there was snow. Is there snow? There’s supposed to be a whiteout.”
The words flew from Mom so quick that, had I not grown up with it, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up.
“It’s snowing, but it’s not too bad,” I said. “Just a bunch of flurries, but it’s kind of thick. I don’t think it’ll go to a full-blown whiteout, though.”
“That’s what the news said.”
I didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t a big issue if the weatherman had called it or not. It didn’t matter so long as I made it to the cabin.
“How’s the cabin look?” Marsha asked.
“No idea,” I replied. “The parking lot’s about fifty yards away. The cabins are set kinda back in the trees and stuff. More relaxing that way, I guess.”
“Oh.” Worry touched the word. “I hope you can get to it okay.”
I reached for my phone and pulled up the screenshot I’d taken from the website. It showed the parking lot and the trail that led into the trees. I peered out of the windshield as best I could manage. The trailhead was marked, but snow covered any trace of the walkway itself.
Looking at the picture once more, I traced my finger over it.
“Looks like my cabin is just up the trail and to the right at the Y. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“Well, there’s that, I suppose.” The confidence hadn’t returned to her voice.
“I’ll be fine, Mom, but I gotta let you go. I need to head up there before the snow worsens.”
“Of course, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I ended the call and made an internal check of everything. I had the keys the check-in office had given me, gave the map once more glance then stowed my phone. Removing my keys from the ignition, I leaped out and popped the trunk.
The wind had picked up in the few minutes I’d been talking to Mom. It was bracing, biting through my coat and numbing my face in an instant.
“Fuck,” I grumbled.
I grabbed the bags—one with clothes and toiletries, and the other filled with the food and things I’d brought for myself. While the establishment was willing to provide the basics for those who requested it, extras had to be purchased at the renter’s expense.
Throwing the bags over my shoulders, I slammed the trunk and headed up the trail.
The wind whipped down the path, around trees and through the bushes. Flurries slapped me in the face, sticking to my skin and melting, only helping to chill me further.
I shook within the coat, having lost feeling in my nose, ears and fingers. The headache formed almost immediately, that painful sort that would only worsen once I was warm again.
The pain became the higher concern, and as much as I tried to keep my thoughts straight, they were beginning to waver.
Left at the Y. Left at the Y.
I repeated the directions over and over, keeping my eyes squinted against the wind.
Left at the Y.
The path wound to the right in a wide, sloping shift that caught me by surprise. I hadn’t expected to go down a small hill and nearly fell when I did.
After what felt like an hour, the Y in the trail emerged.
Oh, thank God.
As per my recollection of the map, I traveled to the left and picked up the pace, desperate to escape the weather.
A brisk jog was my saving grace, helping me break through the winterized forest and into a clearing.
The dark silhouette of a small cabin stood out against the brightness of the snow. I hastened, leaping onto the front porch and producing the key.
I slid it into the lock and gave it a wiggle. The key was jammed, unwilling to move. Not unaccustomed to locks freezing in the cold, I gave it a hard, sharp jerk and the door opened. I charged inside, slamming the slab shut behind me.
“Oh, my God.”
Shaking the flurries from my shoulders, I dropped my bags.
The cabin was tens of degrees warmer than the outside world, and the pain I’d expected in my ears and nose erupted. It radiated through my head, throbbing with each heartbeat.
I rubbed my hands together and peered around the cabin. It was a little different than I expected, not quite the same as the pictures, but lovely just the same.
The door opened into a space with the living room just across from me, the back of the couch pointed in my direction. It was situated in front of a large fireplace where a fire burned. To my left was the kitchen, a simple space with the most basic of appliances and a small round table big enough for two chairs.
To the far left and tucked more toward the back corner was a doorway that led to a man.
I jumped, a tremor of shock rippling through me. He looked up and paused, our gazes locked.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked.
“Who are you?” He charged forward, forcing me back until I hit the door and ran out of room. “This is my cabin.”
“No, it isn’t. This is my cabin.”
“No, it isn’t.”
My agitation replaced the fear. “Yes, it is. Cabin Number Two. See?” I spun around to point at the number on the back of the door. “Number…” My heart sank. A brass one hung just above the framed map of the area. “Oh, no.”
I looked over the path, tracing my finger along the painted line starting at the parking lot.
Turn left at the… My finger trailed to the right toward Cabin Number Two. I let out a pained groan.
Almost too afraid to turn, I forced myself to do so. The stranger stood near the couch, ten feet away, his thick arms crossed and a stern expression on his face.
In that moment, I’d been forced to realize that not only had I barged in on someone else, but he’d been in the process of relaxing, standing in nothing more than his pajama pants.
“I am so sorry,” I said. “I-I-I…” I took a steadying breath. “I must’ve gotten turned around in the snow. I’m so unbelievably, completely sorry about this.”
The crease in his forehead relaxed. He sighed, allowing the tension in his shoulders to drop when he lowered his arms.
My gaze fell as a result, taking in everything he had to offer, and he didn’t disappoint. A thick chest, broad shoulders and rolling muscles, the guy took care of himself.
Oh, good God.
A wave of desire swept through me with a breath, and when I shivered, it had nothing to do with the cold. Heat spread across the base of my neck, rippling down my spine and finding a home between my legs.
Get a hold of yourself… Christ!
“It’s okay,” he replied. “No harm done.”
“No, right, of course.” I did my best to smile, but half my face remained numb from the snow.
He scratched the back of his head and peered around. A tattoo caught my eye. Black shading and the sloping body of some kind of animal led my attention to another tattoo, then another and another. He had a full sleeve of color, black and gray, and words I couldn’t quite read.
How the hell did I miss those?
He cocked a brow at all the shit I’d dropped near the door but said nothing about it.
“So, can I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked, meeting my gaze. “It’ll warm you up a little before you head back out.”
Anxiety coiled in my stomach. I flashed another halfhearted smile and shook my head.
“No, thank you. I should get going. I don’t want to impose.”
He nodded, but when his gaze darted toward the window over the kitchen sink, whatever he saw seemed to have bothered him. Without a word, he approached it, leaning over the sink to better see into the wilderness.
I stared at the floor. The embarrassment of breaking into the guy’s cabin still hadn’t faded. If anything, the more polite he became, the worse it got.
It didn’t help that my body was telling me I should jump the guy.
“Yeah, um, I don’t know if leaving right now is going to be the best idea.”
“Wha-? Why?” I sprinted to his side, pushing his shoulder out of the way to look. “Oh, holy shit.”
The wind had picked up even more, and the snow intensified. If it wasn’t a blizzard before, it was dangerously close to becoming one.
“Stay here,” he said, turning to look down at me.
I shifted, too, glancing up to meet his gaze. Heat bloomed in my cheeks.
Too distracted with his body to look above his shoulders, I hadn’t realized the guy was gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, chocolate-brown eyes and a stubble-ridden jaw, he was handsome and ticked a lot of my boxes.
He seemed deep in thought when he touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip, drawing my attention to them. It was nothing, a mindless habit I think I’d been guilty of, but I was a horrible person and saw it as something else entirely.
My heartbeat quickened and an ache pulsed between my thighs. It’d been a long time since I’d had sex that was worth a shit. If it hadn’t been for my imagination, I never would’ve gotten off.
Knock it off. More important things.
“I can’t,” I replied. “Like I said, I’ve already burst in on you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t feel comfortable sending you out in that.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder and headed for the tea kettle. I couldn’t help but stare at the torrential snow swirling around the trees. “Might as well just stay here for a little while.” He turned on the gas stove and set the kettle atop the high flames. “Beats hypothermia.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Utter defeat washed over me and in a lackluster voice, I muttered, “Yeah, okay.”
“Go sit by the fire,” he said, motioning toward it. “You’re probably still freezing.”
I nodded and slinked off to the fireplace. I chastised myself for being so stupid. A simple direction—keep to the right—and I’d messed it up.
I’m such an idiot.
When I reached the fire, I sat on the sturdy coffee table and held my hands out to the flames in an attempt to regain feeling.
“I’m going to just go grab a shirt.”
I nodded but didn’t bother turning to acknowledge him.
Because I was too stupid to remember the map correctly, I’d ruined a random guy’s getaway.
With a sigh, I dropped my head.
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