Page 9 of When It Snows

I taste the chicken noodle soup and moan. “This is good.”

She shrugs. “It’s just canned soup.”

“I’ve had canned chicken noodle soup before. This is not the same thing.”

“I added some sautéed onions, celery, and carrots. It’s not a big deal.”

“Agree to disagree. It tastes homemade.”

“I don’t have any bread but there are some crackers.”

Scarlett with the scathing tongue can’t handle a compliment. She’s adorable. I shake my head. What am I thinking? She hates me for how I treated her in high school. While I barely remember her. Maybe I am an asshole.

“Crackers are fine.”

“Did you phone a friend to come pick you up?” She glances outside and frowns. “I don’t know if a friend should be coming to pick you up. The roads are bad.”

I scratch my chin. “About that. I’m afraid the cell towers are down. I couldn’t get through to anyone.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck here with me.”

I frown at her self-deprecating. Why wouldn’t I want to be stuck in a log cabin with Scarlett during a snowstorm?

I waggle my eyebrows. “I bet we can figure out a way to entertain ourselves.”

She giggles. “You’re a bad boy.”

“But I’m good at it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Who says? You sure they weren’t faking it?”

I gasp. “Scarlett Harris. Do you doubt my prowess?”

“You remember my last name?”

Guilt hits me. I can’t believe I didn’t remember who she was when she opened the door. In my defense, she used to wear the ugliest glasses, and her clothes were always oversized. Mostpeople wouldn’t have realized the hottie at the door was the awkward girl from high school.

I grin. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Ah. Did the women lie to you about having a pretty face, too?”

“And they say I’m a troublemaker.” I gather our bowls and stand.

I stagger and have to grab the edge of the table before I fall.

Scarlett jumps to her feet and grasps my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bit dizzy.”

She places her hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Actually, I don’t feel too good.”

She wraps an arm around my waist and leads me to the living room. “Here. Sit on the sofa.”

I flop down since my muscles have apparently decided to stop working.

“Are you sweating?” She places her hands on my cheeks. “You are. We need to get you out of these heavy clothes.”

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