Page 14 of Snowed In With the Grump
I gripped the counter, knuckles white, every muscle screaming at me to go after her.
It’s better this way,I told myself.
Better to end it now. Before she realized what a mess I really was.
Before she left anyway.
When she returned, dressed in her own clothes again, she didn’t look at me. She gathered her things quickly, folding my shirt and sweatpants neatly and leaving them on the couch.
At the door, she finally turned.
"Thank you for letting me stay. For the record, I don’t regret it. Any of it. But I do regret thinking you might actually be brave enough to want something more.”
Then she was gone, headed toward her car as fast as she could walk without running.
And her fucking car started on the first try... because of course it did. The universe clearly wanted her away from me as fast as possible.
I watched from the window as she drove away, taking what felt like all the warmth in the cabin with her.
When her taillights disappeared around the bend, I slumped against the wall.
"It's better this way," I said aloud.
The empty cabin didn't answer.
7
Lucy
Three days.
Three days of trying to forget his touch, his taste, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world...before his walls slammed back up.
Three days of telling myself I was an idiot for thinking one night could mean anything to a man like Griffin.
Three days staying in Snowberry Creek, the small village at the base of Bearclaw Ridge, pretending I wasn’t glancing up the mountain every time the clouds cleared. Pretending I hadn’t fallen for a grumpy, gorgeous, emotionally constipated mountain man.
And then...
Three days before I found myself driving back up that mountain road.
My little Civic was running like a sewing machine after the guys at Snowberry Garage gave her a tune-up. She was practically singing to me, purring like shewantedto see him again.
Even Beau, the grouchy mechanic with arms like steel cables and a surprising soft spot for stray cats, had cracked a smile when I thanked him.
Could this be a sign?
God, I hoped so.
I had an excuse ready... I’d “forgotten” my phone charger. Weak as hell, and we’d both know it, but I needed to see him. I needed to know if I’d imagined the connection between us or if he was just too scared to hold it.
As I rounded the final bend, I spotted him outside, splitting wood like the walking lumberjack fantasy he was. He’d stripped down to a white tank despite the cold, and every swing of the axe made his muscles flex in ways that made my mouth go dry.
He noticed my car immediately. The axe froze mid-air.
I parked and got out before I could lose my nerve.
"You’re back," he said, his voice carefully neutral.
