The cabin's warm. I set her on the couch and add logs to the fire. The wood catches quickly, flames dancing up.
“Bathroom's through there if you need it. I'll make something warm to drink.”
Clara limps to the bathroom while I put the kettle on. The cabin feels different with her in it. More cozy somehow. Comet follows her, tail wagging, already in love. Traitor.
When she comes back, she settles by the fire, and I hand her a mug of tea.
“Thank you, Beau.”
I check my weather radio instead of responding. The reports are worse than I thought; three feet expected, maybe four in the higher elevations.
“How bad is it?” she asks, reading my expression.
“You'll be here at least two nights. Maybe three.”
Her face cycles through panic, frustration, then resignation. “My boss is going to be furious.”
“Better than freezing to death.”
“I've worked seventy-hour weeks for two years. Missed every holiday. This promotion was supposed to make it all worth it.”
I understand more than she knows. “Let me guess… you work harder than everyone else, but somehow it's never quite enough?”
Her eyes widen. “How did you…”
“Lucky guess.” I move to the window to check the snow. It's coming sideways now. “You should get out of those wet clothes.”
Her face falls. “I don't have anything. My case was in the trunk.”
Right. I head to my dresser, pulling out flannel pants and a thermal shirt. “These'll be huge, but they're warm.”
She takes them, our fingers brushing. There’s that same jolt from earlier and pure electricity runs straight down to my cock.
While she changes in my bedroom, I try not to think about her in my clothes, in my space. She emerges with the pants rolled up, the shirt hanging past her hips. She should look ridiculous. Instead, she looks like she belongs right here by my fire, those soft curves doing things to my shirt that should be illegal. My cock jumps in my pants, pressing against my zipper.
“Better?” I ask, voice rougher than intended.
She settles back by the fire. “Much. Your cabin is beautiful.”
“This was my uncle's place. He left it to me, probably because no one else in the family wanted it. Too small.”
“Why didyouwant it?” Clara studies my space: the big, twinkling Christmas tree, my bookcases, and the half-carved reindeer on my workbench.
I clear my throat. “It's quiet up here.”
“Lonely?” she asks, then looks horrified. “Sorry, that's none of my business.”
“Sometimes. But loneliness's better than being surrounded by people who don’t understand you…”
She's quiet. The fire pops, sending sparks up the chimney. Comet comes over to me, pawing at my leg. I get out his jingling reindeer antlers and put them on his head. He prances over to Clara.
She giggles. “He actuallylikeswearing these?”
I nod. “It’s a long story. He thinks he’s part reindeer.”
Comet settles at her feet, looking content.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, needing to move, just so I stop gawking at her.
