He’s right. I’m smiling for the first time in days. Since I walked in on Chett with his assistant bent over our kitchen counter. That mental image is going to haunt me forever.
“Your turn,” he says, those hazel eyes steady on mine. Curious but not pushy. Patient.
“Sloane Winters. Twenty-nine. Marketing consultant.” I pause, debating how much to share, then decide to just go for it. “Currently on a self-imposed exile from real life.”
“Exile, huh?” He raises a brow at me, genuine curiosity replacing the playful amusement. “That’s a strong word.”
“Long story.” One I was not ready to tell. It involves tears and betrayal and realizing that the man I had planned to marry was a lying, cheating asshole who had been screwing his assistant for six months while picking out wedding invitations with me. I was not ready to spill my guts to a stranger, no matter how kind his eyes. No matter how safe he makes me feel with just hispresence, his calm demeanor, and the way he looks at me like I’m a person worth knowing instead of a problem to be solved.
“We’ve got three days.” His voice is gentle. Not pushing, just offering. “Might be more if this storm does what the weather service is predicting.”
Shit.
Three days with this gorgeous man was going to be hard enough, but more. “Maybe later,” I say softly, hating how defeated my voice sounds. Fucking, Chett.
“Fair enough.” He pushes off the counter, and I try not to notice the way his shirt pulls across his chest and abs. Try and fail. “I should check the generator, make sure we are set for the night. There is a bedroom in the back, you should take it. I will crash out here on the couch.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
“There’s only one, and it is not my bed. It is the station’s bed. And you are a guest.” He grabs his jacket from the hook again. “Besides, I’ve slept in worse places. Trust me. That couch is practically a luxury suite compared to some of the places I have caught sleep on shift.”
Before I can argue further and insist that I will be fine on the couch and he should take the bed because he was the one doing me a favor, he is out the door, letting in a blast of frigid air before it slams shut behind him. Leaving me alone in the warm station with my thoughts, my racing heart, and the realization that I’m in so much trouble. I sink onto the worn couch, the springs creaking under my weight, and let out a long breath that feels like it has been trapped in my chest for hours. Days. Weeks.
What have I gotten myself into? I had come to the mountains to escape relationships. To heal from the spectacular failure of my engagement to Chett. To piece myself back together in solitude before I had to face my family during the holidays and explain why the wedding was off and why I was suddenly single,unemployed, and living with my best friend. I was supposed to be having an Eat, Pray, Love moment. Well, minus the praying and loving. There was going to be a lot more wine and self-pity involved in my journey. Maybe some dramatic crying, even. Instead, I’m snowed in with a man who looks like he has walked straight out of a firefighter calendar. The kind with perfectly sculpted abs underneath his uniform, smoldering eyes, and that rugged, capable energy that makes you want to do deeply irresponsible things. A man who has a smile that makes my stomach flip in ways it should not. A man who makes me feel things I have sworn off feeling.
I spot the white phone charger plugged into the wall near the desk and practically lunge for it. My hands shake slightly as I plug in my phone, my lifeline, and watch the screen light up with that beautiful charging symbol. Relief floods through me. I’m truly not stranded now. I have a connection to the outside world. Proof that civilization still exists beyond this small cabin and the man who smells like wood smoke and makes my pulse race.
My phone buzzes almost immediately. A miracle of modern technology. One bar of service, but one bar is enough. A flood of texts from Riley come through, each one more frantic than the last.
RILEY: Did you make it???
SLOANE: Sort of. Snowed in at a ranger station. Long story.
RILEY: Are you safe?
SLOANE: Yes. With a Search and Rescue guy. Also, a long story.
RILEY: Is he cute?
I glance toward the door where Jax disappeared. Cute was not the word. Devastating. Dangerous. Built like a Greek God. Those were more accurate.
SLOANE: Not relevant.
RILEY: That is a yes. Send pics. You know, proof of life and stuff.
RILEY: Sloane, this is literally a plot from one of your Christmas movies.
SLOANE: Not helping. This is real life not a Christmas movie.
RILEY: The universe has sent you the perfect rebound.
SLOANE: I am not sleeping with him.
RILEY: Why not?
SLOANE: He is a stranger.
RILEY: He is a knight in shining armor.
