Page 57 of Go Cook Yourself

There’s no way we’re going anywhere tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ruby

I look at Garett. “Shit.”

He gazes at the car park. His dark-eyed stare takes in every lump and bump of snow. “I couldn’t agree more, Rubes. What do you want to do?”

Cold settles in my bones. I’m not warm enough to be out here in my skirt and heels, especially in the hold ups I wore for him, even though he wasn’t meant to see them. It was like I was my own worst enemy when I put them on this morning—wearing something sexy for a man I can’t be with. “My parents might know someone who can get us out.”

“But…” He senses my hesitation. It will take more than a local guy with a Land Rover to get us home.

“But no one can get us out right now, and if they could, their time would be better spent off the roads. I don’t need anyone to get into an accident to help us.” I don’t know if I’m only making an excuse so I can spend more time with Garett. “We could stay in the cosy mezzanine area. There’s lots of blankets and cushions as well as the sofa.”

Garett’s stare lingers on the van. He lets out a puff of air. “Okay.”

“I’ll let my sister know I’m safe and that I’ll be staying here,” I reply as if the prospect of one night in his company won’t destroy me. We walk back inside. “Can you sort out the heating while I contact her? We should keep the heating low to not waste money but to stop pipes freezing. The blankets should be enough to keep us warm.”

“Cool, cool.” Garett clenches his jaw, his eyes dart all over the place.

The call to my sister is brief. Everyone is safe. I manage to allay her fears yet fail to mention that I’m not alone. She doesn’t need to know, and from what she says, the snow should be gone by lunchtime tomorrow due to the rain and rising temperatures first thing.

I shake my head as I reach the hideaway. The last thing she said won’t leave my consciousness. The sofa is a sofa bed. I don’t know how to tell Garett that without sounding like I’m propositioning him, because that’s exactly what I want to do.

Again, I remember what my brother said as we sat on plastic garden chairs.

I second-guess every decision as I turn on the fairy lights and prepare the space for sleeping. I unfold the blankets before pushing them to one side.

“No, we need blankets,” I grumble before laying them out. But it’s the sofa that holds my attention. If Garett comes up in the next minute, I won’t mention anything. I take off my shoes before putting them back on again. I can’t look like I’m seducing him.

Don’t be stupid, Ruby. You can’t sleep with your shoes on.

I remember how I teased Garett today. It wasn’t about annoying him. It was about turning him on. I want him. I need my Garett itch scratched, and whenever I’m around him, I need to know if he fancies me. Even if we can’t be together.

I look down the stairs, but he’s not there. I tap my foot restlessly against the floor and clatter my teeth together. Maybe I should test the bed. It’s probably too old to fold out, anyway. We can sleep on the sofas, but they aren’t big enough for us both. What if we end up cuddling on one, and I’m grinding on his—stop, Ruby! You’ve read too many of Amber’s spicy books. All one-bed tropes and hard cocks.

I test the bed, attempting to yank at the bottom even though it’s a bad idea.

It comes out quickly.

“Fuck,” I grumble. I pull at my eyebrows.

It looks like a proposition. I can’t leave it like this. Garett’s footsteps hit the stairs. I flap around, pushing and pulling different parts of it, but where it came out quickly, it won’t go back. He’s getting closer. I yank one of the sides and trip over it.

I land face first on the sofa, my ass in the air, a chill on my thighs as my skirt rides up.

“And I thought I was preparing dinner,” Garett says. He sounds cocky, but the choked way his words come out suggests this situation has unnerved him too.

I jump up, unable to make eye contact, yet my betraying gaze flicks to his face. One of his hands covers his eyes, and his cheeks are redder than a sunset on a frosty evening.

“You averted your eyes?”

“Eventually,” he grunts. “I’ve brought a snack.”

He’s balancing a cheese board precariously on his free hand. I yank my skirt back into place.

“I’m all decent,” I announce.

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