Page 46 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

I’d have to make sure I didn’t fall asleep in the tub.

It was the best bathtub I’d ever experienced, and I’d had the pleasure of many different kinds of bathing experiences, given the extensive traveling I’d done. When I became a homeowner, this room had a boring modern shower and small tub, but I’d splurged on a contractor to rip it all out and install this lavish clawfoot tub.

With a lazy yawn, I was reaching for the loofah when the bell rang out.

I stilled. It was my doorbell. Who would be ringing at this hour? As far as I’d seen on my harrowing walk to my house, the roads didn’t look even remotely passable. It could only be …

Peter.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the visitor to go away.

Or maybe Doris, the retiree down the road, had come back from her trip early?

Unlikely.

I’d just ignore it. Whoever it was—well, it had to be Peter—would go away if I didn’t answer.

I sank back into the water, sighing as the steam felt cleansing in more ways than one.

My relaxation was once again cut short though as the bell sounded again. I grimaced, deciding to ignore it. I wish I had earplugs in here.

The bell sounded again a minute later and again in half that time; the sounds were coming closer together, as though the visitor were becoming impatient.

Well, he can be as impatient as he wants to be. I’m not giving him the satisfaction—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

OK, now he was pressing it repeatedly, and I thought I heard pounding as well.

Sinking into the water further, I groaned.

This wasn’t going to work. How could I forget: the man was even more stubborn than I was.

Swearing profusely, I accepted the inevitable. I’d get out of the bath to answer the door, yell at him, and then come back to the bath, maybe adding some more hot water and bubbles. Then I’d grab my coziest pajamas and some hot cocoa before going to sleep. I smiled, thinking of the bliss I’d soon be experiencing. Assuming I could get him to leave.

I frowned.

That might be easier said than done.

The bell was ringing even more frequently now, and the knocking was almost continuous.

Sighing, I forced myself to get out of the warm haven, which was quite possibly the hardest thing I’d done all week, even worse than the blizzard walks. Since I had every intention of coming straight back to my bath, I quickly toweled off, grabbed my pink robe from the hook, and wrapped myself up.

Under ordinary circumstances, of course, I wouldn’t answer my front door in a bathrobe. But Peter and I had been in pretty close quarters for days, so it wasn’t a big deal. The likelihood of the caller being anyone else was miniscule.

After opening the door, I stood in front of it to block his entrance. “Peter. What are you doing here?”

I was wrong. It was a big deal.

His eyes widened and then went hazy as they slowly swept downward, lingering on each of my ample curves, and then moved even more slowly back up to my face. His hand twitched at his side. His lips were dark pink from the cold and parted as though he was going to speak or … something else.

I put my hands on my hips, impatient to end this interaction, but only too soon discovered that was a bad idea, as his eyes once again flickered down.

He seemed shocked that I’d answered the door this way. Disdainful, maybe.

He wasnotmesmerized by my robe-clad body. He couldn’t be, because he didn’t even like me.

After clearing his throat, he swallowed. “Let me in, Hazel.”

---