I frown, trying again. But the water doesn’t flow. The pipes must have frozen.
“Goddammit.”
With a grunt of annoyance, I leave the bathroom and head back outside. My rental cabin is only a short walk from here. Check-in isn’t until midday, so I figure I still have about an hour to take a shower and clean the bathroom before any guests arrive.
The forest is bitterly cold. My feet crunch through the snow, freezing wind stabbing at my face. It feels like my thigh is about to split open.
Fuck. I hate this time of year.
It’s not just because of the weather or the bad memories. It’s because of the festive cheer that people fake every damnDecember. People spend the holidays broke, arguing, miserable, and then pretend like they’re having a “holly, jolly Christmas.”
Bullshit.
It doesn’t help that I live in the most festive small town in the whole damn country. I went grocery shopping in Cherry Hollow yesterday, and the whole place was smothered in decorations. Looked like the North Pole vomited on every storefront.
The Grinch had the right idea.
That grumpy green monster knew what was up.
I reach the cabin a couple of minutes later. It’s a tiny little place, elevated on stilts so that it sits among the treetops like a treehouse. I built it a few years back and started renting it out as an Airbnb. It’s a pretty simple gig. All I have to do is clean the cabin between guests—doesn’t take long since the place is so tiny. And thanks to the lockbox by the front door, I don’t have to interact with anyone except to message them the code. It brings in a nice chunk of income from tourists in summer and skiers in winter. Helps keep me afloat, along with selling firewood.
I’m limping by the time I reach the wooden stairs. They feel like my worst enemy by the time I’ve struggled up to the front door. I’ve overstretched myself—working on the roof since dawn, crouching in awkward positions for hours. But I hate letting the pain hold me back. I always try to pretend it’s not there so I can do all the shit that needs doing. Guess I’m not one to admit when I’m beat.
The cabin is empty, as expected. I head straight to the bathroom, relieved when the shower turns on. The water gets nice and hot as I strip, steam billowing around the tiny room. My whole body relaxes as I step beneath the warm gush. It soothes my leg, easing the stabbing pain, which is always ten times worse in winter.
Just another reason to hate the damn holidays.
The wind outside is picking up, whistling through the trees and making the cabin groan. Through the frosted glass of the bathroom window, I can see flurries of snowflakes tumbling to the ground. I’m not looking forward to the pain waiting for me outside. Hell, I could happily stay in this shower all day. But I need to get out of here before the guests arrive. Need to give the bathroom a quick clean, then get home and fix the damn pipes.
Reluctantly, I turn off the shower and climb out, grabbing the spare towel from the cupboard. I dry myself, wrapping the towel around my hips. Then I pause.
Was that the front door?
The guest isn’t due for another hour, but I swear I heard a noise. It’s hard to tell what it was over the sound of the wind and the creaking trees outside. I frown at the door, straining my ears. Waiting to see if I hear it again.
Suddenly, the handle moves.
The bathroom door falls open, banging against the wall.
A young woman is standing in the doorway. She gasps when she sees me, looking as shocked as I feel. My heart somersaults when she meets my gaze, blinking up at me with big brown eyes. A thick mane of red hair frames her pale face, freckles spattering her nose.
“I…I—” the girl stutters.
I can’t help looking at her mouth when she talks. Those pink, pouty lips. Juicy as a peach. My gaze drops lower. Her thick, curvy body is wrapped up in jeans and a green Christmas sweater, and the way she fills out her clothes is enough to send all my blood rushing downward.
Fuck…
She’s so damn beautiful.
I’m suddenly aware that I’m wearing nothing but a too-small towel. The thin material is doing little to hide my swelling cock.
The fuck is wrong with me?
How am I already hard just from looking at her?
“I’m so sorry,” the girl finally manages to say, averting her eyes to the wall beside us. “I had no idea there was someone in here.”
Goddammit, even her voice is pretty. Sweet as a candy cane. I clear my throat, trying to make myself speak.
