Page 4 of Snowed In With the Grump
Then he added, “Going to check the generator. Make yourself useful and don't touch anything."
As he stalked out, I couldn't help but smile. For someone who claimed to hate company, he sure was interesting company himself.
And if I had to be stranded somewhere, well... there were worse places to be than stuck with a gorgeous grump who looked at me like I was simultaneously the most annoying and intriguing thing he'd seen in a while.
2
Griffin
The generator was fine. I knew it was fine. I just needed a minute to get my head straight... away from those big blue eyes and that smart mouth wrapped in my clothes.
Damn snow. Damn broken-down car. Damn woman who just had to knock on my door looking like a half-frozen angel with attitude.
I hadn’t wanted company. Hadn’t wanted anyone in my space. Definitely hadn’t wanted to notice how she bit her lower lip when she was nervous, or how my shirt hung loose on her frame in ways that made me think things I shouldn’t.
When I came back inside, she was curled up on my couch like she belonged there, sipping coffee and staring into the fire. My clothes were too big on her, making her look small and...
No. Not going there.
"Hungry?" I heard myself ask, like my mouth had disconnected from my brain.
She perked up. "Starving, actually. But you don't have to..."
"Stop saying that." I headed for the kitchen. "If I offer, it's because I'm choosing to."
"Wow, a whole sentence. We're making progress."
I grabbed ingredients for soup, ignoring the way her teasing tone got under my skin.
"I can talk plenty. Just usually don’t have anything to say."
"And yet here you are, saying things." She followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. "Need help?"
"No."
Yes. I needed help remembering why letting her close was a bad idea.
She ignored my answer and started washing vegetables anyway.
"So, what's your story, Griffin? Why's a man like you hiding out in the woods?"
"Not hiding. Living." I chopped an onion with more force than necessary. "And what do you mean, 'a man like me'?"
She shrugged, her shoulder brushing mine as she reached for a carrot. "You know. Tall, dark, handsome, clearly educated despite the whole mountain-man aesthetic. You're not exactly giving off ‘this was my only option’ vibes."
My knife paused mid-chop. "You think I'm handsome?"
"That’s what you took from that?" She laughed, and the sound did things to my chest I didn’t want to examine. "But yes, obviously. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you."
I resumed chopping, willing my face not to heat up. "You talk a lot."
"And you deflect a lot." She bumped my hip with hers. "We all have our quirks."
The casual contact sent a jolt through me. It had been too long since anyone touched me like that... so easily, so naturally. Too long since I’d let them.
She reached across me for the salt, and I caught a whiff of her perfume, mixed with my soap from her quick wash-up. The combination was... distracting.
"You're in my way," I growled.
