Page 49 of Whiteout

Nodding, she swallowed.

“Because, baby, you have no idea what my cousin’s capable of.”

The sun wasn’t shining, but at least it stopped snowing. If six inches was considered a dusting, Ted was right, but when she surveyed the scenery outside, it looked like more than a dusting to her. Sipping on her coffee, Breanna glanced across the deck patio to Sinjin’s room next door. Was he awake yet? Doubtful. Especially considering the amount of bourbon he’d consumed the day before. And that had to account for all the nonsense that came out of his mouth last night, too.

Maybe Breanna hadn’t always been the best judge of people, but as far as she could tell, Derek wasn’t someone to be all that concerned about. So why the cryptic warning? Yeah, he’d been a little bit handsy, and a whole lot flirty, but she was a big girl—she could take care of herself. There was no need for Sinjin to go all caveman on her.

He’s jealous. That’s what it is.

Sure seemed so, anyway. Not that Sinjin had a right to be, despite his insistence she was his. Was she? I wish. It was just sex. So what if it was the mind-blowing kind Breanna only saw in movies or read in romance novels, right? Surely, it meant nothing.

Besides, he was drunk. Sinjin probably wouldn’t remember a word of what he said when he woke up this morning. And even if he did, he still had a helluva lot of explaining to do.

Dressed in the only clean outfit she had left, Breanna took her coffee cup and her duffel bag of dirty clothes downstairs to the laundry room. “What in the hell kind of fancy-schmancy washing machine is this?”

The control panel had more buttons than the cockpit of an airplane, for chrissakes. Two doors. Breanna wasn’t sure if she should load the laundry on top or in the front until she realized the machine could wash two separate loads at the same time.

Isn’t that convenient? She giggled to herself. Get out of my head, Sinjin. Ian. Whatever your name is.

Francie stood flipping pancakes at the stove as Breanna made her way into the kitchen for a refill. “Good morning, dear. How’s the headache?”

“Good morning,” she said, heading toward the coffeemaker. “Couple of Motrin and a good night’s sleep…” That I never got. “…I’m totally fine.”

“Hmm.” Francie peeked over her shoulder like she didn’t quite believe her. “There’s fresh coffee and breakfast in the morning room.”

“After all that cooking you did yesterday?” Breanna hugged the woman. “You shouldn’t have, but thank you.”

“It’s what I do.” With a nod, she placed a platter of pancakes in her hands. “And I enjoy doing it. Go on and eat, now.”

Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.

After picking at her food yesterday, too flustered to eat, her angry belly was screaming to be fed.

Chair pushed back, one leg casually crossed over the other, his ankle resting on his thigh, he sat at the table reading something on his phone, a coffee mug poised at those luscious lips. For a brief moment, Breanna saw the bold stranger she met at Hank’s, the man she shared a bed with during the storm. Dressed in a gray crewneck sweater that molded to his muscled body and a smart-looking pair of matching slacks, it was difficult to imagine Ian Maynard ever wearing faded jeans and plaid flannel.

“And she’s awake,” he murmured without glancing up from his phone. “Five more minutes and I was going back to get you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Told you, princess,” he answered with a throaty chuckle and took a sip of his coffee. “I live here.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up already is what I meant.” Putting the platter on the table, she took a seat. “Francie made pancakes.”

“Better than oatmeal, eh?” He winked at her, spearing some onto his plate. “There’s scrambled eggs and bacon, too. Dig in.”

She did.

Eating in silence, Sinjin sent messages on his phone in between bites of bacon. Then he scrolled and tapped away some more, as if she weren’t sitting there right across the table from him.

Rude. Especially considering he had his fingers in her lady bits not eight hours ago.

“Breanna.” Francie entered the room carrying an extremely large box. “A package came for you, honey.”

“I got it, Auntie.” Sinjin jumped up, taking it from her as he kissed her cheek. “Thanks for making me pancakes.”

“Of course, dear.” Glancing at Breanna, she kissed him back. “You two should go outside today. Play in the snow, and show her the mountain. Get some fresh air while the weather’s still good.”

“You heard Miss Dalton.” He appeared uninterested. “She prefers the beach.”

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