Page 111 of Snowed In

Fuck. I’m freezing.

Staggering to my feet, my entire body is shaking. An arm wraps around my shoulder. Ronny is guiding me toward his sleeping bag, now laid out between the kitchen sink cabinet and the space heater.

The space heater. Right. It’s all we have left. How long will the solar-powered generator run? The panels were probably covered by snow for half the day.

I wake up my phone with a trembling hand. No signal or messages, telling me I didn’t miraculously get a blip of service since Inodded off. It’s ten o’clock and we still have to endure the night in this icebox.

I stare dumbly at the space between the heater and the open sink cabinets, trying to figure out how I can best position myself to absorb its warmth. My gratitude for Ronny waking me before I sank into hypothermia is quickly replaced by annoyance. He claimed the prime real estate directly in front of the heater with his stupid, incredibly warm-looking sleeping bag while I was comatose. Such a gentleman.

Bending down, he opens the flap. What was the point of waking me if he’s just going to burrow in and hog the heater? Now, I’ll have to move the heater and look like the jerk.

“Get in.” He gestures with his chin, holding the sleeping bag open.

“What?”

“It’s down to forty degrees in here. I can’t watch you freeze to death after I got us stuck and made you miss your pre-date.”

Him and my pre-date. For a guy who can’t to stand me, he sure pays attention to everything I say.

“Not t-taking your s-sleep-sleeping bag. I’m f-fine.”

That came out dignified.

Scoffing, he shakes his head and strong-arms me to the floor. It’s embarrassing how easily I dropped to my knees. In my defense, I can’t feel my legs.

“Very convincing,” he drawls. “Unless you’ve been concealing a stutter from me for two years, I’m not buying it. Come on. Get in.”

“So you can t-tell everyone what a resource hoarder I was…aft-after we’re r-rescued? No, th-thank you.”

Now, he’s taking my blanket. That’smyblanket!Ifound it.

“Hey! Give that back!”

Why is he sitting down? Is he going to sit on me and hold me down until I get in? Great. I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere with a sociopath.

“What are you…d-doing?” My stammer this time has little to do with the cold and more to do with the bare leg pressed against mine as Ronny slides in beside me. Damn, he’s warm.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to zip us both in, so I’ll take the outer side and wrap your blanket around me. There’s still enough that we can share it and get you warm, though.”

I watch dumbly as he tucks the wool blanket over our legs, and then draws the sleeping bag flap over it. My retreat somehow put me in the prime spot to be in the fold of the sack.

“You’re getting in here with me?”

“Between the space heater and our body heat, we should be able to sleep comfortably enough,” he says calmly, focused on the zipper around our feet.

The sound ratchets my pulse up the longer it goes on, further sealing me into a confined space with Ronny.

Icannotbe zipped into a sleeping bag with this man. I can’t.

He’s warm and not exactly being an asshole for once, but… he’s still Ronny. Stupidly hot, straight, secretary-kissing Ronny. And I’m still…me. Oh, God, his foot just pressed against mine.

You’re freezing to death, Marshall. How can you let a foot belonging to a menace awaken your dick?

Maybe hypothermia causes delirium. Fuck. He’s got the zipper done up to his waist now. It’s getting snug in here.

I feel like aGlo Worm—those creepy dolls that were popular when I was a kid. This thing is like a chrysalis.

Falling back, I turn onto my side as quickly as I can while there’s still time to move. And…thatwas stupid. Pretty sure his hip is pressed right against my ass cheeks.

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