Page 4 of Snowed In With the PUCK

“Coexist?” I echo, not sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. “Well, it’s better than the thought of ‘living’ together.”

“Second time you’ve mentioned that—are you propositioning me, Miss… what was your name?” He puts on a gentlemanly air, which looks ridiculous when he’s just in a towel.

I groan again at his audacity, ignoring his question.

He shrugs, giving me a lopsided grin. “I mean, we don’t have to be best friends or anything. Just stay out of each other’s way. I’ll be out of here as soon as I find my own place.”

I feel a barrage of hope. Maybe this could work, after all, if it were short term. “And when exactly is that?”

He shrugs again. “A week? Maybe two. I’m looking for a sweet penthouse deal in the city, though, so it might take a minute.”

Of course. A penthouse—no, a ‘sweet’ penthouse.

“Must be nice.”

He flashes me that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him out of all sorts of trouble. He is extraordinarily attractive, with sandy hair and hazel eyes. “Perks of my… job, I guess.”

I tense up. I’m not ready to talk about his job or my job yet. How weird would it be if he knew I knew everything about him? That I’m the junior attorney assigned to the grunt work of data gathering to put into his file. At this point, if he ever said it, wrote it, or even thought it… I was the one who found it online and put it in his file. My boss, Jason, is thorough.

The thought of work makes me tired. I need to wrap this up, get to my room, and process everything—or just push it away and focus on my first day at the office tomorrow. I sigh. “Alright, fine. We’ll share the house. Temporarily. And just for now. But I have conditions.”

I glance at his naked torso, hard muscles and beautiful pecs calling out to me. “The first being, you will be fully clothed at all times.”

He smirks. “I see you noticed the ‘ole bod. Shirts required? Done. What else? Lay ’em on me.”

He’s really enjoying this way too much. “Okay, we avoid each other. No invading each other’s space.”

“Those are two conditions, but okay. Deal.”

“And no touching my stuff. Especially not my work.”

He raises both hands in mock surrender, threatening to lose the towel again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I narrow my eyes, not entirely convinced that this will go smoothly, but I’m too tired to argue any further. It’s late, and I’m not in the mood for a drawn-out debate—nor am I in the mood to keep fighting my attraction to him. I need space to clear my thoughts.

“Good,” I say, clutching my computer sleeve with all my files in it to myself. I lug the suitcase to the bottom of the stairs.

“You picked the main bedroom already, I assume?” I say tersely.

“Nope. Just got here.” He nods to the bags I did not notice in front of the couch. “But I like your assumption. We should just go with it. I can take the main room.”

Coming from anyone else, I would say he’s a cocky guy, but he sells it with the cheeky grin, so it’s hard not to just laugh.

I head toward the kitchen counter to grab a snack. Kathy said she saw to it that there would be food here when I arrived. I open the fridge, scanning the shelves for something quick, my mind already running through the list of things I need to get done tomorrow.

I hear Eric behind me. He’s way too relaxed for someone who just found out he’s sharing a house with a stranger. Or maybe that’s just the kind of guy he is—nothing fazes him.

I grab a yogurt and a granola bar, balancing them in one hand while trying to close the fridge with the other. But as I do,the slim computer bag drops, spilling papers everywhere. Thank goodness for the foam liner that likely just saved my computer.

My cheeks go red. I grab at the papers.

“Damn it,” I mutter, dropping to my knees to pick them up. The last thing I need is for him to see anything work-related, especially given who he is… and who I am.

Before I can stop him, Eric crouches down beside me, reaching for a few of the scattered documents. “Here, let me help.”

“I’ve got it,” I say quickly, trying to snatch the papers back. I try to distract him from the bold letters on the files by saying, “You look like a Greek philosopher in that thing.” I look at the towel.

But it’s too late for distraction. He’s already spotted his name printed in bold across one of the files.Eric Warren.

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