Page 3 of Snowed In With the Grump
"Right. Well, Just Griffin, I promise I won't be a bother. Once the storm dies down a bit, I'll..."
"Storm's not dying down,” he said as he moved past me to stoke the fire, and I caught a whiff of pine and something distinctly male. "Weather report said it's getting worse. You're stuck here till morning, minimum."
My stomach dropped. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."
"You could possibly freeze to death instead." He straightened up, fixing me with those intense eyes. "Your choice."
I hugged myself, partly from cold and partly from the way his gaze seemed to see right through me. "When you put it that way..."
He grunted and disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming mug. "Here. Coffee."
"Thank you." Our fingers brushed as I took the mug, and I swear I felt a spark. His hand jerked back like he'd felt it too.
"You're dripping on my floor," he pointed out.
I looked down to see my wet clothes had indeed created a small puddle. "Sorry! I can..."
"Bathroom's through there." He pointed to a door. "I'll find you something dry to wear."
"Oh, you don't have to..."
"Rather not have you catch pneumonia in my cabin." He disappeared into another room, returning with what looked like a flannel shirt and sweatpants. "They'll be big."
I took the clothes, trying not to think about wearing his things. "Thank you. You're nicer than you want to appear, you know."
His expression darkened. "Don't get used to it."
In the bathroom, I changed quickly, rolling up the sleeves and pant legs several times. His clothes smelled like the forest, with a hint of woodsmoke and...the kind of skin that forgets what cologne is but still carries the musk of a beast on heat.
And that’s what I did...I buried my face in a handful of flannel and inhaled like a woman starved, sucking in the scent of him so deep it lit something wild in my belly and sent it crawling low through my body.
When I emerged, he was sitting in an armchair by the fire, determinedly not looking at me.
"Better?" he asked, still staring at the flames.
"Much." I settled onto the couch, tucking my legs under me. "So... do you always take in strays, or am I special?"
He finally looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes that made my breath catch. "Don't get cute."
"Too late," I said before I could stop myself. "I'm always cute."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "You're trouble is what you are."
"Says the grumpy mountain man who lives alone in the woods."
"I'm not grumpy." He sounded distinctly grumpy. "I just like my solitude."
"Which I'm thoroughly disturbing,” I added.
"Yes."
"And yet you let me in."
He stood abruptly. “I had no choice.”
“Don’t they say we always have choices?” I replied.
“I don’t know whotheyare, but sometimes we just don’t.”
