Micah went absolutely still, which would have been comical, given that the hand holding his drink was suspended straight out in front of him. Like what I’d said had stopped time. Like we were two flies caught in the amber light of this room, flash frozen by this moment of complete embarrassment.
Geez, Christa. Maybe try not to come on to the moody man-bear again.He was so clearly ready to be rid of me that it would have been comical. If the rejection didn’t feel so bad.
I pulled my glass away, breaking the spell in the process, and slugged back more bourbon than I’d intended. It burned a hot path straight to my belly and, despite the new tension, eased my joints a little. The pain didn’t go away, exactly. If anything, it burned hotter for a few seconds, but I somehow didn’t mind it as much.
Ready to shove that awkward moment behind me, I took another sip. This one went down easier in the shadow of the first. Good. Maybe if I drank enough, I wouldn’t notice the way he avoided me. I could pass out and wake up and, if all went perfectly, tomorrow the snow would stop and I could find someone to come up here and get me.
“So, where are you from, Christa?”
I couldn’t help the surprised look I threw at Micah. Was he actually making small talk?
“Um. Seattle. I mean, my family’s from up here, but…I just moved back.”
“To be with your grandmother.”
“Yeah. My granddad died a couple years ago. And she had a stroke a few months back. Couldn’t leave her here. On her own, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“What about you?”
He looked a question at me.
“You always live here? In this cabin?”
“Oh. No. No. Bought the land a while back. Been in the cabin a couple years now.”
“And before that?”
“Army.”
“Is that where—” Crap. I hadn’t intended to go there. It wasn’t any of my business where he’d lost his leg. And probably wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, either. I opened my mouth, ready to backpedal, but apparently, after downing his bourbon in one shot, he had other ideas.
When he stood and walked to the little kitchen area, I almost followed him to… I don’t know. Maybe apologize for prying? Maybe tell him to forget about it. Or, I could lock myself in the bathroom until the roads cleared. It was big enough, and there was a little seat in there…
I didn’t expect him to grab the bottle and fill both our glasses before settling back onto the sofa beside me. A little closer, even, than he’d been before.
“What you humming?”
“Was I?” Probably. I did that when I was nervous. “Oh. A Christmas song, maybe.”
“Which one?”
I hummed low and then stopped, flushing even redder than I’d been before, and hid my face. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“It’s the worst Christmas song.”
“Lemme guess. Um, the drum one.”
“No! That one’s good.”
He snorted. “Okay… That two front teeth one.”
“No!It’s Good King Wenceslas, okay? That’s the one I’m humming.”
His lips turned down at the corners. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”
