Page 26 of Snowbound

He looks away from me, back at his eggs, and I swallow hard. For some reason, tears are threatening to fall again, which is a stupid reaction to have over a man that I don’t know, don’t like, and I’m never going to see again.

I must be out of my mind to have thought that anything could have been remotely likely to happen between us. It must be a product of the stress and the loneliness that I’ve never quite managed to shake. He’s clearly not interested.

So I decide to let it go.

“Thank you for breakfast,” I say. “You really didn’t need to.”

He says nothing, and I decide it’s best not to push. He doesn’t seem comfortable when being forced to acknowledge that he has feelings like a human being. And now I’m lingering totally awkwardly, so I excuse myself to brush my teeth and get dressed.

I’ve barely unpacked since I’ve been here. But then again, I’m not really planning to stay, so that doesn’t matter. I pull on a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater and try to gather myself into a presentable person before I head back downstairs. I don’t need to look nice for him, but I don’t want him thinking I’m a slob either.

When I return to the kitchen, I’m greeted with a whole breakfast spread. While I’ve been getting ready for the day, Gabe has cooked up bacon and sausages, hash browns and eggs. The full works.

“You whipped all this up just now?” I ask, staring at it in wonder.

He squints. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Still, I really appreciate it.”

“You do eat sausage, don’t you?” he asks, almost ignoring everything I’m saying.

“Yes,” I say, deciding that conversation isn’t something we’re going to be having this morning.

If it was something he wanted, the silence over the breakfast table isn’t convincing me.

“I guess I should be getting going today,” I say eventually as Gabe goes to grab his third helping. I thought I was a person with a healthy appetite, but I’ve got nothing on him.

“Where to?” he says through a mouthful of hash browns.

“I should at least try and make it to my client.” He snorts derisively, and irritation flares up in my chest. “It might be funny to you, but this is the last job I have scheduled for months. Winter isn’t exactly a busy time in the wedding industry. I’m relying on this job to keep me in business. Without it, everything I have is going to go towards rent and food, never mind anything fun.”

I sigh, realizing that, yet again, I’ve overshared with him. And as usual, he gives nothing back, sympathy or anything else.

“How are you going to get out of here?”

My mouth opens and closes again. “Someone must have a car I can borrow. Or you can even just fix the bare minimum.” He shakes his head. “Okay, so that’s a lost cause. There must be a taxi service.SomethingI can do.”

He shakes his head again. “Not in this weather.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here,” I say, trying not to whine. “I want to go back to my life.”

“Believe me, I want that too,” Gabe says. “But for as long as it’s snowing, it looks like this is where you’re going to stay.”

Tears prickle at the back of my eyes, and I clench my fists, determined not to let him see me crying again. “I can’t stay. I need to get back to work or everything will fall apart.”

“Well, good luck getting out of Mullen Falls. Once you’re here, you’re here forever.”

“Does anyone even get married in this town?” I scoff. “I doubt anyone could afford my prices. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to afford my own prices. Not that I’m ever getting married. Nobody wants me that much.” Salt is stinging my eyes now, blurring my vision, and my fingers are leaving red marks on my palms as I try to hold the flood back.

I don’t know why I’m saying any of this. I don’t even know why we’re arguing.

Gabe gets to his feet, takes his plate over to the sink and drops it in loudly. His back to me, he mutters, “Looks like you’re staying here, whether you want to or not. Do whatever you want, but don’t ask me about your car again. It’s not going to be fixed today or tomorrow. But if this client fires you for real, I’ll waive the fees.”

With one sentence, he knocks all the air from my lungs.

It stops my bitterness and anger in their tracks. “You’ll what? You don’t have to do that.”

He just grunts.

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