Wind rattled the window above the sink, and I squinted outside. By the time I’d woken up this morning—which was early—earlier than Chewie’s wake-up howl thanks to a night of fitful and unfulfilled sleep—the power was back on and the snow had stopped, a clean slate of soft white as far as the eye could see.
No, the truth tumbled from my lips like the snow squall from the sky because she was fire. Warm but fierce.
When I was in front of her, I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t stop looking deeper. And I couldn’t stop the way she gently melted right through all the walls I’d come here to hide behind.
I’d said I didn’t want to think about women. I realized the women I meant were the ones who were fake. The ones who their photos were so filtered they looked nothing like them. The ones who feigned a sweetness that was poisonous in private. The ones who cared about all the things that didn’t matter—like 1.2 billion dollars.
But that wasn’t Winna.
Being around her gave me hope that what I was searching for existed—that, even from the heights I’d risen to, I could still find something real. With someone else.
I shouldn’t be dwelling on how soft and sweet her lips tasted against mine. Nor the way her tongue wielded fire, burning away the seal between my lips and welcoming the desire housed inside. And definitely not the countless ways I’d wanted to strip her bare, make the first tracks of touch over her snow-white skin, and sink my cock into her wild heat.
Air slipped from my lips in a long hiss.
I needed to get out of this cabin. Of course, it was once again thanks to Winna that I was breaking out of this cell of solitude.
Finishing up with the dishes, I put on a few more layers than I’d worn to the store yesterday, prepared to spend time in the snow.
I patted my pocket, hearing the keys to the rental jingle in its grasp, and decided I’d make sure the truck was okay and see if it was possible to get it back to the cabin.
Outside, I realized the snow wasn’t as deep as I’d imagined after experiencing the brunt of the storm. The wind had blown much of it into dunes against the trees, wrapping them in frozen coats; their branches hung heavy, bejeweled with glittering white tufts of beauty that wouldn’t last.
My boot still sank into the accumulation but I’d guess there was only about six inches or so in the open spaces.
I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder, searching through the trees for the slices of wood and windows that was Winna’s house. She wouldn’t be there though. I’d heard her and Chewy on the path this morning—like every morning—heading on their walk into the woods.
Following the faint tracks her snowmobile had left last night, I settled into the comfort of the crunch of fresh-packed snow under my feet, the crisp and rich silence of the calm after the storm. There was hardly even a breeze now.
It was the peacefulness of it all that really struck me. I’d come here thinking that winter in Michigan would be emptier and more barren than I was—that it would make me feel better about my misery. I was rapidly realizing how wrong I was. The emptiness I expected didn’t exist. This place was full—brimming from the solid ground underneath the snow to the top of the trees kissing the white clouds—with a peace that was almost beyond comprehension.
In the snow, I found serenity. It was so full, I had no choice but to be filled. I had no choice but to let the empty anger go.
I stopped when the cabin was out of sight, but still couldn’t see the SUV.
Yeah, I was an idiot for thinking I was close enough to walk this. Thank God, she’d found me.
“What—” I whipped around, the thud of something hitting me in the back still echoing through the silence when I saw her, laughing, and wiping the snow off her gloves from the snowball she’d just launched at my back.
My head fell and I let out a small laugh. “I didn’t even hear you coming.”
I reached down as Chewie bounded over to me, spinning around my legs, and enjoying the fresh snow to play in.
“I see that.” She chuckled and folded her arms over her chest. Even though she had on her massive winter jacket, now that I’d seen her without it, it was impossible not to imagine the slight shift of her curves underneath all her layers. “What are you doing?”
I looked in the direction I was originally heading. “I was going to check on my truck.”
She pulled her scarf down and the sight of her lips was worse than another headbutt to my groin. “You’re not going to be able to move it today. Maybe tomorrow. Today the snow is still too deep.”
My mouth opened to protest, because there was still that natural urge to challenge her, if for no other reason than the quick parry of her response felt like the sweetest sting on my skin.
“What are you doing?” I asked, crouching down to give Chewie a good scratch behind his ears, the pup settling for a second, his mouth falling open and his body shuddering with enjoyment.
She took a few steps closer. ”Besides making sure you don’t end up in a snowy ditch somewhere?” Her teasing reached a new part of me now.
After our kiss, the playful warmth of her words soaked deeper into my soul and created a kind of comfort that would be hard to resist if I wasn’t careful.
My gaze snapped up to her, fire racing through my veins. Scooping up a handful of snow from the other side of Chewie where she couldn’t see, I crunched it into a snowball and tossed it at her. The wide pop of her eyes and matching circle her lips formed was, for lack of a better term, fucking adorable as my shot nailed her straight in the stomach.
Meanwhile, Chewie, thinking that the snowballs were all for him, darted away from me, searching around the snow at Winna’s feet for the ball he’d seen fly through the air but now disappeared.
I stood and smirked. “Not bad aim for a city boy.”
Her one eyebrow rose and she looked me up and down, not like when I came out with my sweatpants on, but like she was seeing if I was up to a challenge.
Tipping up her chin, she said, ”Let’s see if you’re as good with a bow.”
An archery lesson wasn’t what I’d been looking for when I stepped out the door this morning, but hell if it was what I needed.
“Did I interrupt your hunt for the day?” I asked, drawing the bow next to my cheek and aiming with only my right eye.
I released and the arrow flung forward, sailing silently through the cold air and sinking into the outermost circle of target but below center.
“There will be nothing to hunt,” she said. “Not with all the snow. Tomorrow though. I’ll be out tomorrow.” She picked out another arrow and handed it to me, her fingers hanging on even once I grasped it. “Your elbow is tipped up.”
I nodded, accepting her advice.
She released her hold so I could clip in my next shot, the bow and arrows she’d given me much more user-friendly than the ones I’d used in one activity in high school. The arrows clipped to the drawstring, removing the need for the archer to hold and draw at the same time, and the tip of the arrow sat on a small metal rest a safe distance from where my left hand gripped around the metal frame of the bow.
I pulled my arm back, the cord giving off the slightest hum as though it were singing from the strain.
“Better?”