Page 5 of Snow Bound

“You make one move and I’ll put you in the ground,” she countered, a little unnerved by the outrage blazing from his pale blue eyes. They shone nearly silver in the dim light, and something niggled at her memory.

She narrowed her gaze, searching his face as the niggle got stronger, then every single thought flew out of her head.

She scrambled back, unable to hold back the shriek as the biggest dog she’d ever seen lumbered into the room. His feet looked to be the size of dinner plates, and she was sure her entire head would fit in his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is that?”

The man rolled his eyes, exasperation replacing wounded outrage, and lifted the hand that had been cradling his crotch to scratch the beast behind the ears. “Now you come in,” he griped at the dog. “Where were you when she was pelting me with apples?”

The dog snuffled at the man’s face, and he let out a huffing laugh. “Idiot,” he said with amused affection and gave the dog a last scrubbing pat before turning that blazing gaze on her again. “If I get up to get a towel, are you going to throw something at me again?”

She cocked her arm back, apple at the ready. “Yes.”

“Jesus Christ.” He dragged a hand through his hair, scattering water that the dog tried to lap up out of mid-air. “Get one for me, then. They’re in the drawer next to the stove.”

Anna automatically took a step toward the drawer, the command in that whiskey voice impossible to ignore even with the exasperated disgust coloring it. Then she froze. How did he know where the towels are?

“How do you know where the towels are?” she demanded.

He lifted a hand to shove at the dog, who was trying to chew on his hair. “Because that’s where they go.”

“How do you know where they go?” she asked, more bewildered now than suspicious.

“Because I live here,” he retorted. “Dammit, Henry, get out of my hair.”

The dog—Henry—gave an offended woof and slapped a giant paw on the man’s lap. He lurched forward, frantically shoving it away. “Fuck! Do I have a target painted on my balls or something?”

“You do not live here.” She lifted the apple again. “I will throw this at your head this time.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m Grant Snow, and if anybody should be throwing apples, it’s me,” he snapped, voice rising in irritation. “I come home in the middle of the night, find a half-naked woman in my mother’s kitchen, and get my balls busted. Literally.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Grant Snow. This is my mother’s house.”

Something akin to horror was beginning to seep through her outrage. “Grant?”

“That’s what I said. Henry, come on.” He shoved at the bulk of the dog until the beast plopped down next to him with a plaintive whine, and when he turned that burning blue gaze back on her, the pieces tumbled into place.

Her hand fell limply to her side, the apple hitting the floor. “Oh, my God.”

Ignoring her, he leaned over to pick up the rolling apple just as the dog made a grab. “No raw fruit,” he said firmly. “I’m not putting up with raw fruit farts all night.”

“Grant,” she said numbly. Grant, from the BDSM club she’d joined last summer. Grant, who’d charmed her with his slow, sexy smile and piercing blue eyes and calm, confident demeanor. Grant, who’d made a date with her for her first ever scene, then ghosted her.

“That’s what I said.”

“From Odyssey.” The numbness was wearing off, burned away by the beginnings of rage.

“I know—what?” He shoved his dripping hair off his forehead, narrowed his eyes. He raked them down her half-naked form, then back up. Recognition and surprise flashed in his eyes. “Anna?”

“In the flesh,” she replied and with a red haze coating her vision, grabbed another apple and let it fly.

CHAPTER TWO

The rage threw off her aim, and the apple hit him in the belly instead of the balls she’d been aiming for. He let out a grunt, shock and pain flooding his face for an instant. Then anger was blazing out of his eyes. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You know exactly what it’s for,” she shouted, and would have thrown another apple if the bowl hadn’t been empty.

“I really don’t—dammit, give me that.” He yanked the apple out of the dog’s mouth. “What the hell are you talking about?”

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