* * *
Of course,all we’ve got at this cabin is instant coffee. I probably shouldn’t complain that I got rescued from a blizzard and all I get to drink is instant, but I slept like shit last night and complain I shall.
“Ugh,” I say quietly, to myself, and stir in another spoonful. It’s already kind of gross, so why not make it espresso-strength? At least it’ll do something then.
“Can you be ready in ten minutes?” Gideon calls from the other room, where he’s doing something or other that sounds like it involves a lot of stomping around.
I’m not sure I can be a functional person in that much time, but I’m annoyed with Gideon because he’s annoyed with me for unclear reasons and being tired isn’t helping anything, so I shout back, “Sure!” and then take a giant gulp of mediocre coffee.
“Good!” he shouts back.
“Good,” I mutter to myself, very quietly, in a terrible impression of Gideon because it makes me feel slightly better. “Andi, get dressed faster. Andi, stop being so—"
I turn away from the counter, make an undignified noise, and drop my coffee mug on the floor because there’s an animal watching me from the kitchen table.
“You okay?” Gideon calls, and I canhearhis concerned frown. It’s guilt-inducing.
“Fine!” I shout back, still staring at the animal, still very tired and now with bonus coffee all over my lower legs. “There’s, um, a marsupial in the kitchen?”
There’s a brief silence.
“Or is that possums?”
I’m, like, ninety-five percent sure it’s not supposed to be here but Gideon’s got an eagle and a fox in his backyard, so who the fuck knows. There’s a rush of footsteps, and then the critter leaps off the table.
I squeak again, still very dignified, and it escapes into a hole in the baseboards just as Gideon appears in the doorway.
Helpfully, I point.
“Was it the chipmunk?”
“I think so?” I say, because it’s too early and I’m too tired to be identifying critters properly. “Thechipmunk?”
He walks over to the hole and frowns at it, like that’ll help.
“It’s supposed to be hibernating but it’s living in the walls,” he says, arms crossed, sighing.
“Oh. Well, that’s fine,” I say, and start picking up the broken mug.
“Doesn’t New York City famously have rats?” he grumbles, still glaring at the hole. “One chipmunk isn’t that bad.”
“The rats aren’t in the walls ofmy apartment.” That’s not exactly true—there wasoneincident, years ago, that I’d rather not recall—but it’s close enough.
“It won’t hurt you. I just haven’t chased it out yet,” he says, and runs a hand through his hair. “And yes, opossums are the only marsupial native to North America.”
I dump the broken mug in the trash, wipe up the rest of the coffee, and set about making more.
* * *
“Just use birdseed!”I say, and it’s loud enough to startle a nearby bird into taking off. Gideon’s tromping up a slight incline toward me, coming back from yet another empty net check.
He simply sighs in response, because this is not the first or even the fifth time we’ve had this conversation.
“They’re not going to become birdseed addicts,” I say, my hands jammed in my pockets and entire head scrunched as low into my scarf as I can get it. “It’sonetime, it’s a super simple lure, they get a snack today and then they come back tomorrow and there’s no snack and they fly somewhere else.”
He scrubs one gloved hand over his face and adjusts his hat over his forehead. Gideon’s got shadows under his eyes and an oddly short temper today, an extra edge to his usual gruffness. I’m not sure what to do with it, but I slept like shit last night because I was too cold to sleep well but also refused to disturb Gideon’s precious Andi-free slumber by asking if I could sleep in the living room, so I’m not sure I care about his bad mood.
We also haven’t kissed again, nor have we evenalmostkissed again, and I get that this is a pretty strange situation, but come on. Give a girl a horny look sometimes.
