Page 21 of Snowy Secrets

She nods and looks around her. "It's fine. I'm sorry I was so nasty earlier. Being around your friend brings back memories I'd rather not deal with right now."

"Well, sometimes, memories aren't all that bad," I say as I stand up. "You wouldn't be where you are without them."

She blinks twice and frowns slightly. "I never thought of it that way."

So…is she saying she's not mad about it? I can't read this girl at all, except that…she makes me feel a certain way, like there's hope in this otherwise dreadfully lonely and long life. I'm notsure I can handle that myself. I clear my throat. "So…you and River…"

"Don't tell me you don't know." She rolls her eyes.

"I know, all right," I reply with a terse laugh. "But are you going to be all icy and cold whenever you see him? It could be difficult with us sharing such a small space for God knows how long."

Bella bares her teeth in an almost wolfish fashion. "I thrive in difficult situations. My purpose right now is to make River MacIntyre's life a living hell."

I blink. "I thought you wanted a few solitary days so you could write in peace."

The look she gives me is basically a wordless version ofpeace, my ass.

I choke back the sudden laugh rising in my throat. "Well, River has no idea what's coming for him."

Her green eyes blaze and burn. I'm glad River isn't in the room with us. She looks particularly murderous right about now. "He's going to wish he never laid eyes on me," she snaps before turning her back to me and gliding up the stairs, presumably to unpack.

Oof, the burn.

Things are about to get very interesting.

9

BELLA

Ididn't quite account for the way my nervous system would react every time I laid eyes on River. Sure, I thought I'd run into him sooner or later—but being stuck with him in a small cabin for God knows how long? Fate has a funny way of messing around with me. I sigh as I wake up in bed, my body weary after a fitful night's sleep. It isn't the bed's fault. The pillows are fluffy, the sheets are soft, and the heater works just fine. It's simply the damning knowledge that the man I hate and love with equal force is in the same place as I am, snoring away peacefully while I burn.

My brows crease as I push away the covers and throw my legs over the edge of the bed, letting them cozy into a pair of cute bunny slippers. Seriously, I'd expected it to be calm enough here for me to write my book, read stuff, sip cocoa, and also find closure. Clearly, I can't do most of these things right now when my brain is this fried, but I can get that cocoa. With a low sigh, I pad across the wooden floor in my fuzzy slippers.

The cabin is pretty, unimaginably so. It could be from a Hallmark card. I go down the stairs and through the living room into the kitchen. In there, my eyes fall on the marshmallowssitting on the counter. Perfect. Hopefully, this place also has cocoa.

It does, I realize with relief once I open one of the kitchen cabinets and find various tins and boxes loaded with spices and powders. One of them is filled to the brim with a rich brown powder that smells of chocolate with undertones of coffee. I pry open the lid and inhale the scent appreciatively. After setting it down on the counter, I hunt around until I find a perfect pan to boil milk.

A quick raid of the fridge later, I've discovered a jug of cream—just what I need right now. Humming a tune to myself, I set the pan down and pour adequate milk into it before I begin heating it over a low flame. A stick of cinnamon goes in for added flavor, and then a bit of cardamom essence.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I stir the milk, a scene from my childhood flashing through my mind. It was a snowy winter day, the kind where the world is blanketed in white, and everything seems quiet and still. I was about seven years old, bundled up in a puffy snowsuit that made me look like a marshmallow, sledding down a hill with my best friend, Lily.

We had spent hours trudging up the slope, our sleds bumping along behind us. Each time we reached the top, breathless and giggling, we would plop down on our sleds and hurtle down the icy slope, the wind whipping through our hair. On one particularly daring run, we decided to link our sleds together, hoping to double the speed and fun.

But our plan had backfired. Instead of a smooth ride, we ended up spinning out of control, our sleds tangled together as we tumbled through the snow. I remembered the muffled laughter as we untangled ourselves, snow dusting our faces and clinging to our eyelashes. We were freezing, soaked, and exhausted, but we couldn't stop giggling. It was a disaster, but it was our disaster, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

A smile plays at the corner of my lips as I concentrate on the gentle warmth emanating from the milk. As I'm stirring the pan, a deep voice from behind makes me almost jump out of my skin.

"Well, well, what are we up to here?"

I spin around, my heart skipping a beat as I see Marcus leaning against the doorframe, a twinkle in his eyes. Goddammit, it's so unfair that the men I'm stuck with here are this handsome—and somehow, I have a sudden craving that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate.

Okay, stay calm here, Bella.

"Just a little something to warm me up," I deadpan with what I hope is perfect nonchalance, holding up the bag of marshmallows.

"Hot cocoa?" he asks, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "My specialty."

"Oh, really?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow. "I happen to be quite the cocoa connoisseur myself, but if you think you can do better…"

---