“I should be fine. Be right back.” Making my way to the basement, I open the door for the mechanical room. Reaching for the light, I flip the switch but it doesn’t come on. Pulling my phone out of my pocket to use as a flashlight, I look around. I don’t see any water on the floor, so I don’t think there’s a leak. I know last time this happened, the breaker had tripped from a power surge. On the other side of the room, I reach the circuit panel and flip the breaker. The lights come on and the water heater makes a gurgling sound. Hopefully, we will have hot water soon.
“How did it go?” Aspen asks once I’m back upstairs.
“Good. I’m pretty sure the circuit breaker was tripped. Should have hot water soon.”
“You’re a rockstar.” She smiles at me, and I feel like I’m ten feet tall.
“Hungry?” I ask her.
“Not right now. How about a movie?” she suggests.
“You pick.” Grabbing the remote from the table, I toss it to her. She scrolls through and picks an action film. It’s one I’ve seen before. There’s a good plot and a love story. Something for both of us. Grabbing another blanket from the back of the couch, I pull it over us as we sit on opposite ends and watch a movie while the snow continues to fall heavily outside. I try not to think about the woman sitting at the opposite end of the couch. I try not to think about the way those hazel eyes of hers were staring up at me with need earlier today.
My efforts are useless. She’s all that I can think about.
I’m in trouble.
So much trouble.
Chapter 7
Aspen
The credits roll, and I’m glad I’ve seen this movie before. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact Conrad was sitting so close yet so far away. I don’t know why it took just the two of us coming to this cabin for me to see him differently. So much so I know I’m just seconds away from making a fool of myself and kissing him. Speaking of kisses, I was sure he was going to kiss me earlier, and I was here for it. I wouldn’t have stopped him. In fact, I wish I would have leaned in a little sooner.
“I’m starving,” Conrad announces. He throws his cover off his lap and stands. “You?”
“I could eat.” Or I could settle for making out here on the couch.
“Come on.” He holds his hand out for me, and I don’t hesitate to feel his skin against mine, even with just the simple act of him pulling me from the couch. “Feed me, woman.” He laughs once I’m on my feet.
“You need to feed me.” I give him a look that says his macho man stuff isn’t working on me.
“How about we feed each other?” His eyes heat, and I have to fight the urge to jump him. Images of all the ways we could “feed each other” roll through my mind like a movie reel.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is Conrad. My sister’s future brother-in-law. I can’t be having these feelings for him. I can’t complicate the relationship my sister has with Grant’s brother. I won’t do that. I need to just keep my hormones in check for a couple more days, and when everyone else finally gets here, all of this sexual tension will fade away. It’s just the two of us being snowed in together. It has to be.
“We’ll cook together. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two,” he teases.
“You do know I work at a bakery, right?” I ask, following along behind him to the kitchen like a lost puppy.
“You do know that Lena Riggins is my mother, right?” he fires back with a smirk.
“Touché.” I laugh. “So what are we making?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” He drops my hand, and I miss the contact immediately.
I watch as he rummages through the cabinets and then the refrigerator and freezer before he turns to face me. “Well, Chef Riggins, what’s it going to be?”
“How about… drum roll, please.” He waits for me to tap my hands against the counter before announcing. “Hamburger Helper.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “You had me thinking we were going to have a big four-course meal, and the best you can come up with is Hamburger Helper?”
“What? I love this stuff, and it’s easy to make,” he defends.
“I’m not dissing Hamburger Helper. What are our options?”
“We have…” He clears his throat and turns back to the cabinet. “Cheeseburger macaroni, or three-cheese lasagna.”
“Hmm.” I tap my index finger against my chin, pretending to ponder my options when really there is no contest. The lasagna wins hands down every time. “Do we have any garlic bread?”
He nods, opens the freezer, and produces a box of frozen garlic bread. “It’s breadsticks, which is better,” he says, holding up the box.
“Perfect. Three-cheese lasagna it is.”
He gives me a boyish grin that tugs at something in my chest. “A woman after my own heart.” He winks and gets to work, pulling out a pan and a pound of hamburger from the freezer.
“Where are the baking sheets?” I ask, holding up the box of breadsticks.
“That cabinet over there.” He points to a lower cabinet next to the refrigerator.
After reaching into the cabinet, I pull out the baking sheet and busy myself placing the breadsticks evenly spaced apart. “Do you cook a lot?” I ask.
“I’ve started to cook more meals at home than I used to. It used to be me, and one or more of my brothers would grab dinner and a few drinks, or we would end up at Mom and Dad’s. Now that Royce, Owen, and Grant are coupled up, we do less of that. Marshall and I still do from time to time, but it gets old after a while. It used to be a way to just hang out with my brothers, now it’s the same, but with just Marsh and me, we don’t do it as often.”
“Do the others never join you?”
“No, they do, just not as often as they used to. It’s fine. I get it. If I had a woman waiting for me at home, knowing I got to fall asleep next to her, I’d be the same way.”
“Any prospects?” I ask before I can think better of it.
“Nah, just me and my lonely boxed dinners.” He holds up the box of Hamburger Helper. “What about you? Do you cook a lot?”
“Not really. We bake all day, and when Aurora still lived with me, we cooked more. Now that it’s just me, I find myself eating bagels, cereal, and even peanut butter and jelly for dinner.”
“Grape or strawberry?”
“What?”
“Grape or strawberry jelly? You can tell a lot about a person with the flavor of their jelly.”
“Well, when it comes to jelly, I’m a grape girl. However, when it comes to other things like candy, I always go for strawberry over grape.”
“Interesting.” He grins.
“So what does that tell you about me?” I ask, intrigued.
He shrugs. “It tells me you like grape jelly.”
It’s not funny, not really, but I find myself throwing my head back with laughter anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” I say through my laughter.
“Well, I might be ridiculous, but I made you laugh, and you’re beautiful when you laugh.”