Page 22 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

Well, no matter. I could feel the heat from the fire already, so I’d make do without the comforts of sleep I was used to. I could handle anything except more cold and dark.

As I tried to find a comfortable position on the couch using my arms as a pillow, I heard his footsteps on the soft rug, and a few seconds later, a weight dropped on me. I yelped andscrambled to sit as I looked to see him hovering above me with his arms crossed.

I peered at the heavy heap. Blankets and a pillow. Two, actually. I almost smiled, as I always sleep with two pillows, but then he snatched one, along with a blanket, and placed them on the other couch.

Crap.

“Thanks. Are you, uh, planning to sleep here too?”

He nodded while stretching out his blanket, and I noticed for the first time that he was wearing sweatpants, plus the same T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. How strange, as he didn’t seem like the type of guy who owned sweatpants. Though admittedly I didn’t know him that well, despite my instincts shouting that he was a pompous suit type who only wore silk pajamas, if he ever even slept, that is.

I must have been making a face, as he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Um … everything? What a hellish night.” When he continued eyeing me, I felt forced to add, “But thanks for letting me stay for a bit. I’ll just … take a nap if you don’t mind and then leave you in peace. I was going to try to stay out of your way while I’m here, but it appears you’re staying in here?”

He exhaled slowly. “As you can see.” Then he mumbled something I couldn’t decipher while turning his back to me.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

He sighed, turning around. “I said we need to conserve energy. The generator isn’t supposed to power the whole house. My bedroom is toward the back of the house, so I was planning to sleep here anyway.” His brows furrowed slightly. “Is that a problem?”

I winced. “Uh, no?” That sounded like a question. “No, it’s not,” I said, injecting more confidence in my voice than I felt. What did it matter, anyway? I’d be asleep soon, and hopefully bymorning, the weather conditions and electricity outage would be resolved, so we’d have minimal chances to interact before I left.

But what if this wretched power cut isn’t fixed by morning?

I refused to think about it.

The situationhadto get better. It would.

Chapter 8

Before I even opened my eyes, I noticed the pressure on my abdomen. As I tried to sit and force my tired eyes open, the pressure shifted a bit.

Sleepy blue eyes looked back at me as a soft, furry tail tickled my cheek.

A Siamese cat was curled up on top of me. He opened his beautiful, soulful blue eyes and regarded me with faint interest. But when I raised my hand to pet him, he was gone in a flash. Not very trusting, I guess.

Wait, Peter had a cat?

No way. He couldn’t possibly be an animal person, much less a cat person. Because I couldn’t hate cat people. I was incapable.

He must be cat-sitting or something. For whom, I had no idea, since he probably didn’t know anyone in Shipsvold. But it was the only possible explanation.

Closing my eyes, I tried to relax again, my bodyfinallybecoming warm and comfortable even though the sofa cushions were hard.

Before long, I sat up in frustration and rummaged around in my bag on the floor. Glancing over at Peter, I saw the tell-talerise and fall of his chest and soft inhalations. I sighed, putting on my purple sleep cap.

I’d rarely told anyone I wore a hat to bed, much less let them see it. I’d learned long ago, freshman year of college in the dorms, that people thought it was weird. Beyond weird. I’d never met another soul who wore them, other than my late grandfather. But I didn’t sleep well without my night cap. I’d even shooed men out of my bed before after doing the deed rather than letting them sleep over and going without my cap.

I slipped it on, hoping I’d awaken before Peter in the morning.

But if not, who cares? I didn’t care what that man thought of me. And I doubted his opinion could sink any lower anyway.

I managed to fall asleep for a short time before waking again, more alert this time. I wondered if it was dawn yet. How would I even know if the wind was still whipping the snow in every direction?

I rolled over, this time without a cat in sight, and groaned.

Peter was gone, along with his blanket and pillow. He’d probably seen me with my silly night cap and—

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