Page 6 of Snowed in with my Best Friend

“That makes sense,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

And now I had way too many questions, but not enough time. “I need to head out. I want to work on one set of edits before Cullen picks me up.”

“And you call me a workaholic.”

I snorted. “My producer got them to me late. It’s okay, I’ll get it done, but I feel bad. The author has a deadline.”

“Then get it done, missy.”

We hung up, and then I went to my small recording booth that I had put in a few years ago.

I was blessed to be able to be a voice actor and narrator. Though I had been doing it for a bit longer than Mercy had. In fact, I had been doing this full-time for ten years. I no longer needed to work as a drama teacher on the side or do tutoring for those who could afford it. And while I missed working with kids, the schools just didn’t have the funding. And the year after I went full-time towards my dream, they cut the program entirely.

I still donated whatever time I had to private projects, and other pro bono work, so kids could have some form of creativity in their lives, but it wasn’t enough.

However, I needed to seal myself into this booth and work on all the pickups that I might’ve missed.

For instance, instead of the word shallow, I had used the word sallow, which didn’t really work for a shallow grave. I had also mixed up three words multiple times on a page, and I remembered that day I had been flustered for a reason I didn’t want to think about.

Like how Cullen was coming over later that day to force me out of the house for dinner.

He was my friend. I needed to remember that. Just because he looked like Henry Cavill in his build, and most bearded of days, didn’t mean that I needed to swoon over him.

It was just that now I knew he truly cared for his beard. It was soft and smelled slightly of sandalwood soap and oil, meaning he had a true beard care routine that apparently did something for me. And when he wore Henleys, which he liked to do often, he would pull them up to his elbows, so he showed off his forearms. I didn’t realize I had a fixation on those, but here I was, thinking about one of my friend’s—one of my best friend’s—forearms.

It was all I could do to remember that I had to be better than this. I wasn’t going to ruin what we had. Because while I had my online community thanks to my job, Mercy and Cullen were really the only two people I saw on a regular basis. And even then, I tended to hermit more than anything. I enjoyed being a hermit. It was what I did.

But sometimes I needed to venture out. So I wasn’t going to ruin one of the single connections I had to the outside world.

I was just going to have to get over this ridiculous crush when it came to Cullen.

It didn’t take me long to get through my voice work, as I had been prepping for everything already, and as I sent the files to my editor, I quickly went back to my packing, ensuring that I had everything set up.

I looked down at the gift in silver wrapping paper and wondered if it was too much. It wasn’t like he was going to get me anything. We never had in the past. This would just be a thank you for driving me all the way to my parents’ home in Wyoming gift.

Except that I had bought it for him weeks ago, but it wasn’t as if I was going to show him the receipt.

Maybe he would think that I had left the house far too early in the morning, before the sun rose, and battled the stores for this.

Yes, that was how I was going to work it.

The doorbell rang as I closed my purse, the gift settled inside the large tote.

I swallowed hard and tried not to act as if I was a frantic lunatic.

This was just Cullen. I had been in a truck with him before.

Last night, in fact.

And it wasn’t as if I had jumped him.

I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind and went to open the door.

And there he stood, in his lumberjack glory, and I knew this was going to be a problem.

He had on dark jeans that fit his thighs so well it should be illegal. He wore heavy work boots, but they were cleaner than his usual ones from the job site. Then he had a black flannel buttoned up over his Henley, and once again, his beard looked so soft.

I looked up into those blue eyes and let out a sigh.