Page 10 of The Minx and the Mountain Man

I force a scoff, moving past her to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ve seen worse.”

She gasps, dramatic as hell, with a hand to her chest. “That was so rude.”

I take a long sip of water to cool myself down. “You’ll live.”

But even as I say it, I know I need to put some space between us. Because standing here, with her looking at me like that, like she sees something in me worth teasing, worth tempting? It’s dangerous.

So, I do what I do best. I shut it down.

“Storm’s coming in,” I mutter, nodding toward the window where the sky is darkening. “Should bring in some more firewood before it gets bad.”

Sadie tilts her head, studying me like she knows I’m making something up to get away from the moment. But, thankfully, she doesn’t call me on it. She just nods. “I’ll help.”

“I don’t need help, Sadie.” I try to keep the exasperation out of my voice, but I’m hanging on by a thread here.

“Don’t be silly. We can do it twice as fast if we work together.”

The wind picks up as we step outside, cutting sharply through my coat. Snow flurries swirl around us, the sky already thick with low, heavy clouds.

“Damn storm’s moving in fast,” I mutter, heading toward the woodpile beside the cabin.

Sadie follows, wrapping her arms around herself. “Is it always like this?”

“Winters here don’t play nice.” I grab a few logs, loading them into my arms. “You’ll get used to it.”

She huffs, brushing hair from her face. “I love how you just assume I’m weak.”

I glance at her, at the way she’s shivering, her cheeks pink from the cold. “I don’t assume anything.”

She sticks out her tongue at me.

Before I can respond, the wind shifts, and suddenly, the snow is everywhere. A full-on whiteout in a matter of seconds, thick and blinding.

“Shit,” I grit out, dropping the logs.

Sadie stumbles closer, grabbing my arm. “I can’t see!”

I pull her toward me instinctively, shielding her from the worst of it. The snow whips around us, ice-cold against my skin.

“We need to get back inside,” I say over the wind.

But when I take a step forward, my boot slides on the frozen ground, and before I can stop it, we go down.

Sadie yelps as she lands right on top of me, her hands bracing against my chest, her body pressed flush against mine. The air between us goes thick.

I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her breath, the heat of her body against the cold. Her eyes meet mine, wide and searching, lips parted.

I should move, put space between us, get us out of this storm. But I don’t. I can’t.

I just look at her. At the curve of her lips, the way her breath puffs out in the cold air, the snowflakes caught in her lashes. And damn if I don’t want—badly.

I want to taste her. I want to sink my fingers into her hair, pull her closer, and see if she kisses the way she talks, full of sunshine and fire.

Her hands twitch against my chest, and she leans in just a fraction. Then the wind howls, yanking us back to reality.

I clear my throat, gripping her waist and lifting her off me. “Come on,” I say roughly. “Before we freeze out here.”

She blinks, waking from a daze, then nods. “Right. Yeah.”

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