Page 78 of Austen Persuaded

“Well, when you show up wearingthatin a snowstorm and then expect to—”

“Since when is it your business what I wear and, for that matter, what I do?” I demanded, my voice becoming louder. “If I want to die in the snow, it’s my prerogative, dammit.”

He eyed me and said coldly, “You’re right. Fine.” He spun around and walked quickly, stopping at a door farther down the hall.

I attempted to calm my breathing as he unlocked a door and disappeared through it. “Wait!” I shouted, but it was futile, as he’d already closed the door. I walked slowly toward the door, dread but also resignation growing with every step. What had I been thinking?

Sure, he’d been a total jerk, but I do need his help.

Crap.

Just as I was about to knock on the door, I noticed it wasn’t fully closed and took a steadying breath of the blissfully warm air around me before slowly pushing the door open.

He was sitting on a chair near the door, removing his wet winter gear, and he didn’t look up.

“Kylan,” I started, trying to stop shaking, only partly from the cold at this point. “Thanks for helping me. I, uh, I know you meant well.”

His response was something like a grunt, and he glanced up only briefly before gathering up his wet things.

I swallowed with some effort. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I have no way to get home, and I … well, I wouldn’t ask a friend to pick me up in this weather.” My brow furrowed. “I just realized I don’t even have my phone. I must have left it in my car just before dropping my keys into the snowy abyss.”

He slowly rose from his seat and stared at me. He started to turn, and I realized he was going to make me ask.

“Kylan, wait—” I called out. “Can I … stay here for a bit? Until it’s safe to go? Not too long.” I tried to remember what the weather forecast had said. Snow until 3:00 am, I thought, but I couldn’t trust my memory now.

He halted but didn’t turn around fully. “It’s fine. Kelly’s out of town. I’m going to bring the wet things to the laundry,” he said in a tone with forced civility. As I wondered if that was an invitation to follow, he said, “Don’t follow me.”

I stared after his retreating form as he disappeared down the hallway.

His sister’s name is Zophie, so who the heck is Kelly?

And why can’t I bring my wet stuff to the laundry too, if I’m to stay here?

I folded my arms over my drenched chest and sighed deeply. It was perhaps fortunate that I was fuming; the flames of indignation were the only thing keeping me warm.

Minutes later, Kylan finally reemerged, only to disappear into a different room from the hallway. I scoffed and considered shouting his name. What did he expect me to do?

Before I could vocalize my discontent, he strode out of the second room armed with a fluffy pink robe and oversized thick blue slippers. “Here, put these on,” he said as he placed the slippers on the floor in front of me.

I raised my eyebrows as our eyes met.

He sighed in frustration. “Please put on the slippers,” he said slowly, as though talking to a wayward child. “Then, I’ll show you to the bathroom, where we’ll draw a warm bath.” When my eyes widened, he added quickly, “For you. A bath for you. We need to get you warm as soon as we can. I worry about hypothermia. I’m surprised you don’t have frostbite.”

“Well, how would you know?” I asked, biting my lip. “You haven’t asked.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you?”

I shook my head. “I am so cold though. I feel like … like I’ll never be warm again. Like the cold has seeped into my bones, my very soul.”

Seeing his alarmed expression, I tried to laugh. “I mean, I’m half-kidding. Not quite that bad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold before. I didn’t grow up making snow angels as a kid, after all.”

He nodded, a serious expression on his face, and gestured toward my feet. “Do you need help removing your boots and putting the slippers on?”

The last thing I wanted was for him to touch my feet, or touch meanywhereagain, and he surely wanted to avoid further contact as well. I shook my head as I bent down and peeled the boots—which were really more style than substance—off my numb feet.

After I followed him to the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the large tub and turned on the faucet, testing the water temperature until it was slightly steaming. I stood there, still shaking … it must be from the chill. Though it was quite warm in here. I bit my lip hard, trying to see if it was still numb. “Can you, um, leave?”

He rose to his feet and eyed me briefly. “Yes. Obviously.” Before he crossed the threshold though, he pointed toward the linen closet. “Towels are in there.”

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