“Just a feeling.” As he says it, his nostrils flare slightly.
It’s a faint, microscopic reaction. Almost undetectable. I’d miss it if not for the fact that I’ve seen countless alphas react the same way in the past.
Ah. That’s right.
He smelled me. Even though it’s been months since I last saw him, Branson didn’t have to open the front door or step into the cabin to know it was me. All he had to do was breathe in.
I cringe as hard as I possibly can without allowing my face to reflect the emotion.
Lovely. Just lovely.
Branson knows me by scent.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I’m momentarily taken aback by the brusqueness of his tone, so I perform some quick mental gymnastics to make sure I haven’t got my dates wrong—it’s happened to me before, so it’s not impossible—but no, I spoke to Jensen and Paul about the trip on Monday. They ended the call with a cheery, “See you this weekend.”
The trip is this weekend. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be here. Perhaps there’s been some sort of miscommunication between the brothers. Gosh. Maybe Jensen didn’t tell Branson we’d be using the cabin. Quite a big oversight, really, because Branson owns the cabin, but far be it from me to cast judgment on their family dynamics.
“I’m not sure whether Jensen mentioned it, but it’s the Bad Bitches Getaway this weekend,” I explain.
Branson looks at me blankly, heavy brows creeping down low and causing a deep line to form between them. “The getaway was canceled.”
“What do you mean the getaway wascanceled?” I exclaim a lot louder than I was expecting to. “We’ve been planning it for months.Whywould it be canceled?”
“Um…” He looks at me for a beat and gestures broadly to the massive picture window framing the seating area. “Because of the weather.”
See what I mean about small-town people and the weather?
Not that Branson’s from here. He lives and works in the city, but he’s up here almost every weekend, so he’s probably caught the weather fixation from his neighbors. People around here are obsessed with it. I’m pretty sure it’s a kink for some of them. They probably get off on talking about it.
I’m about to tell him so, when I look outside. I must have napped for longer than I thought I did because it’s almost dark now. The light frosting of snow that was coming down when I got here is a thing of the past. It’s dumping now, coming down in sheets, thick wads landing silently. The landscape was varied in color, throwing up greens and browns on the drive here. Now it features one color only.
White.
Snow white.
Pieces of a puzzle fall slowly into place.
Oh shit!
I know what happened. I was at work, and the group chat was insane. Seriously, it was insane. I couldn’t get a thing done. Everyone was messaging like crazy. Alerts were popping up every few seconds. They were messaging about food, alcohol, and who should bring what. Paul was sending recipe links, and Jensen was replying with meme after meme. It was distracting the hell out of me, so I muted the chat.
I meant to turn it back on when I got home.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and unmute the chat as Branson watches, arms crossed over his chest. Sure enough, there are a hundred and thirty-eight unread messages. I scroll through the most recent ones, and find, with a sinking heart, that it’s official: I’m the only bad bitch on this getaway.
“Ha-ha,” I say, enunciating the words instead of actually laughing. It’s a lackluster attempt at using humor to deflect from my embarrassment that falls flat. “Looks like I missed a few important messages, huh?”
Branson neither agrees nor disagrees. He just looks at me like I’m a blithering idiot.
Ordinarily, a look like that would royally piss me off, and alpha or not, I’d let him have it. Given the circumstance, I choose to let it go. Sometimes you have to be the bigger man. Rise above it, and all that.
I put my phone back in my pocket and rub my hands together. “So,” I say, “guess I’m here for the night.”
It’s a disaster. An absolute disaster. I don’t know this man anywhere near well enough to be trapped in the middle of nowhere with him. I mean, yes, things have changed, but being stuck alone in a cabin with an unmated alpha overnight is still far from my idea of a good time.
Branson blinks at me slowly. “You really don’t check the weather, do you?”
