What the fuck?
Little green tartan bow-accented bells jingle from her ear as she rakes her eyes from the top of my head to my toes.
Okay…
“It doesn’t look like you’re going to have much luck getting out of here,” I start, taking a step closer even though my brain is telling me to step back. Slowly.
“No shit.” Her retort is part sob and part scoff.
“Wouldn’t want you to turn into a yeti or something…”
Fuck, probably not the best thing to call a woman I’ve only just met. Man, talk about a bad choice of words. I don’t know what the hell is happening right now, but I’m not this goof. The reason I’m here is because I’m great at negotiating situations and deals. For some reason, I can’t seem to get the right thing out. Maybe it’s the jet lag. Maybe I’m too exhausted to think straight—it would explain why I’m contemplating inviting her to stay here with me.
“Are you trying to say I’m a crazy abominable creature?”
“Ahhh, no.”
“Right.” With a shake of her head, Amelia starts murmuring into the phone. “This can’t be happening to me. It’s Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year.”
“Amelia?” A smile tugs at my mouth at the sound of her name falling from my lips.
“You can’t abandon me now! He could be a serial killer! The Christmas Ripper. The Snow Slasher. The Merry Murderer.”
Wow.
“Amelia.”
Pulling her shoulders back, she levels me with a straight face, taking a deep breath at the same time as she grabs the kettle. There’s no doubt that in her hands it could be a weapon of mass pain.
“I can assure you that I’m no ripper, slasher, or murderer. I don’t even do Christmas, so you are entirely safe. Trust me.”
I wish I could say the same thing in reverse.
“You heard that.” She grimaces.
Nodding, I rock back on my feet. “Yup.”
Talk about awkward moments, and yet, I don’t want it to end so that I can take in her bashful blink and nervous gnaw of her lip. As charming as her coyness is, the defiant jut of her chin tells me that she’s a force of nature.
Long lashes flutter before she tells her friend, “Seb is going to hate me.”
Seb. My gut twists at the name, a sudden spike of anger slashing through me.
“I’m sure your boyfriend would want you to be safe and warm rather than stranded out here. Unless you intend on building yourself an igloo?”
A laugh erupts from her as she tells me, “I’m pretty certain my brother would tell me to build an igloo instead of—” She stops with a shrug, looking toward the house as though she’s waiting for my formal invitation.
“Shacking up with a stranger for the night?”
“Excuse me?”
Fuck. “That came out wrong. It’s been a long day, and I’m jet-lagged to fuck and beyond, but I’m sure there’s more than one room in the place.” I gesture to the cottage while reminding myself that I haven’t actually been jet-lagged in years. “If you’d like, you can stay until we can resolve your issue or the snow lets up.”
“I don’t know you.”
“I don’t know you either.”
There’s a beat of silence where she listens to whatever her friend is saying down the phone before she asks, “ID?”
Huh, she actually waits for me to pull out my wallet and license before she snaps a picture and sends it to her friend.
This has got to be the most absurd situation I’ve ever found myself in. For some reason, I’m not as annoyed by it as I think I would normally be. Amelia has something about her that makes me curious. Clearly she’s smart, takes her safety pretty fucking seriously—which I find more pleasing than I probably should—and has a spark that has rendered me absolutely fucking stupid. She’s what my father would call a spitfire.
“Love you,” she says into her phone. “Call later.”
Hanging up, she walks around me, searching for her case in the snow before she heads inside the house.
“Coming?” she asks, looking back at me as though I’m the one that’s kept her outside all this time.
“Sure.”
I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, but a part of me knows I’m not ready for it.
The cottage is rather beautiful. Daphne would probably refuse to leave if she were here. The rooms aren’t as big as you would think when you look at the place from the outside. It’s not what I would usually go for, but it’s cozy, and now that I’ve managed to light the fire, it’s warm too.
Amelia walks into the sitting room as I send off a summary email from the meeting this morning. Thank God there’s Wi-Fi because my cell phone coverage isn’t doing that great. It picks random spots to work, and I have enough on my plate without having to sit out in the cold sending emails and making calls.
Being CFO to our family’s global fund isn’t as glamorous as the private jets and million-dollar penthouses suggest. It’s a constant need to prove that I’m worthy of the role. There’s always someone waiting for me to fuck up so they can diminish all the long hours and hard work I put in to nothing but family privilege.
“I’m not really sure what we have in the cupboards that we can use for dinner, but I can make something.”
I look up and my breath catches at the sight of her with her messy curls pulled into a high ponytail. Where she was out in the snow so long earlier, her lips and cheeks are a little raw, giving her a gorgeous flush that makes the green in her hazel eyes stand out.
With her fingers tapping away on her phone, she looks as though she’s about to scream the place down. At the same time, she keeps declining whatever persistent call keeps buzzing. Amelia wanders over to the armchair by the fire, opposite mine, and perches on the arm.
She’s so engrossed in whatever’s happening on her phone that I tell her, “I’ll Uber something.”
A grin cuts her face as she replies, “Go for it.”
We may be practical strangers still, but I already know that grin means trouble. Ignoring the warning, I pull up the website on my laptop to search for something decent only to find there’s literally nothing. We really are in the middle of goddamn nowhere. This makes remote seem urban.
“Any luck?” Amelia snickers, getting up as I close my laptop.
The sweater dress she’s wearing allows me a glimpse of her creamy thighs. Velvety skin calls to my hands, making me itch to touch. It’s been a while since I’ve looked twice at a woman, let alone felt the pull to touch.
Glancing up, I find her watching me as though she knows the effect she’s having on me. If that’s not enough, my pulse races at our proximity. Her soft scent fills my lungs as I drag in a deep breath.
“I didn’t think so,” she rasps, pulling back.
The hem of her dress rises slightly with the defined curve of her ass as I watch Amelia walk away.
“Coming?” she asks, looking back at me over her shoulder.
God fuck it all, if she asks me that again, giving me that know-it-all, I-told-you-so look, I can’t be blamed for what will happen. I might not be the serial killer she joked about, but I am a man. With eyes and a dick that’s aware enough of her presence that the reasons why I’ve stayed away from women begin to fade.