He stops without warning, and I slam straight into his back. An "oof" escapes me as I bounce off what feels like a six-foot-four brick wall. He doesn’t even wobble. All five-foot-five of me feels so much smaller than him.
Slowly, he turns his head just enough for me to see the edge of his profile. "Your own personal hell?"
"I don’t like the cold, and I especially don’t like skiing. It’s one of the many reasons I live in Arizona."
He shakes his head. "You hate the cold, you don’t ski, and you thought it would be a good idea to follow me into a blizzard."
I place a hand on my hip. "To save your career… yes."
And mine, I say in my head.
He blows out a deep sigh and looks around at the reception area packed with pissed-off vacationers. He knows exactly what I’m up against tonight if he doesn’t agree to give me a small place to sleep.
"Fine. You can stay with me, but you’ll have to share half the bed."
"Share half the bed? Are you crazy?" I shake my head. "No, that’s fine. I’m sure there is a couch or chair… or rug that willsuit me just fine until this all gets cleared up tomorrow and I get my room."
He lets out a humorless snicker. "There’s no chance of you getting a room for another few days at least. This mess is going to take a while to clean up. As much as I’d be happy to let you sleep on the floor, the Chalet doesn’t have any extra blankets. I only have the duvet on the bed, and with people sleeping on floors in the hotel lobby, there’s no chance of the hotel having any spare blankets to hand out." He looked me up and down in my parka. "And since the cold is your own personal hell, I’d say you’re not the kind of girl that will survive the night without a blanket. It gets cold even with the fireplace and the central heating."
"I’m not sleeping with you. That’s not going to happen."
"It is," he replies. "Or you’re going to freeze your ass off. You keep to your side, and I’ll stick to mine, and with any luck, we’ll get you back on a plane out of here as soon as possible."
"I’m not leaving until you agree to come with me," I tell him.
"That’s not how this is going to work."
I exhale through my nose, gripping the handle of my suitcase hard enough that my fingers ache.
"You’re enjoying this," I mutter.
"That you’re getting instant karma for stalking me and scaring away my entertainment twice?" he asks. "Yeah, I might be."
Then he turns back around and pushes through the massive double doors of the resort and heads out into the snow.
"You coming," he asks, not glancing over his shoulder to see if I am, "or are you sleeping in the lobby with everyone else?"
I hate him. I really hate him.
"I’m coming," I bite out and take my first step outside into the cold, my luggage clutched tight.
The storm hits me the second we step outside. This isn’t a winter wonderland like the airport advertised on their posters.This storm has claws and teeth that steal my breath so fast I almost choke on it.
Luka doesn’t even flinch. He just walks, hands buried in his oversized puffy coat pockets. His long strides eating up the lighted path to his chalet. His broad shoulders make him seem like he was built for this weather, his head down like he and the blizzard have an agreement.
I drag my suitcase after him, the wheels catching in the snow every few feet like the universe is personally offended by my ambition.
"Do you seriously consider this a vacation?" I ask, raising my voice over the wind and trying to keep my jaw from chattering so hard it breaks off every last tooth.
He doesn’t turn.
"I would have if you hadn’t shown up," he calls back, casual as if he’s discussing the weather.
I grit my teeth and keep moving.
The lantern-lit path winds between dark trees and perfect white drifts. My boots slip once, the tread useless on the polished ice hidden beneath the snow. I catch myself on sheer spite and keep going.
Another step.
