Page 67 of Wood You Rather?

Every single winter, people died on the roads—in accidents or frozen in their cars. And others when their heat went out in the night.

And all the information I sent them, the suggestions and reminders, usually fell on deaf ears. If anyone understood what this place was capable of, it was Henri, so I wasn’t too concerned there. But Remy and my mom were of the “it’ll be fine” mindset, which had me living my life in a perpetually cold sweat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy said. “We know the drill.”

He had returned from a timbersports competition in California last weekend, so he was boasting a tan and feeling a little full of himself after placing third. If things continued to go well for him, I expected he wouldn’t be working for Gagnon Lumber for much longer.

I’d miss him, not that I’d ever tell him that. I’d loved seeing my siblings every day. It was what Dad had always wanted for us. The next generation of Gagnon Lumber.

I only wished I could have done this when he was alive.

That it hadn’t taken his death to get me back here.

But the sentimentality could wait. A storm was coming. It was early, still October, but that didn’t matter to Mother Nature, especially up here. I had been tracking it since it gathered steam over the Great Lakes.

Our position between the mountains always meant snowy winters, but it wasn’t even Halloween yet. And that was all the more reason to keep on top of things. My mind was already spinning with tasks that would have to be accomplished before the flurries started. I’d top off my gas tank on the way home from work. The house was stocked with food, but I’d charge up all the electronics, check my generator, and restock the firewood.

“Are you sure?” I asked, cocking a brow. Of the four of us, Remy was the least detail oriented. The “everything will be fine” attitude had grown old about the time he graduated from high school.

“Can I be excused from the annual Pascal Gagnon ‘winter is coming’ lecture?” Adele asked, arms crossed over her chest. “I’ve got dozens of parts to move inside and storage to secure.”

“Yes.” Since birth, Adele had made it clear that she could take care of herself, and I pitied anyone who told her otherwise.

“You seem especially wound up about a little snow,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What’s really bothering you?”

I looked up from my laptop and shot her a glare. “Trying to make sure we’re all prepared, individually and as a company. Can’t risk losing machinery or productivity.”

She smirked. Dammit. She wasn’t buying what I was selling. She knew me better than anyone.

Yes, I was fixated on the impending storm. But maybe, just maybe, I was also doing everything I could to avoid thinking about Parker and the kiss and what the hell had happened between us the night before.

Was that so wrong? To put the safety of my family members and employees first?

Because I was not thinking about Parker. And I was not thinking about that kiss. And I was not thinking about what I’d done in the shower after.

Those thoughts were too dangerous. And right now, I had actual physical danger to worry about. Icy roads, equipment damage, pipes bursting. A big storm posed many challenges in an industry like ours, so I’d remain focused on what was important.

Because my roommate slash colleague slash fake girlfriend was nothing but trouble. She dug deep and constantly pushed my buttons, and she was driving me absolutely crazy in the process. But then there were times we had dinner or worked side by side on our computers or sat in front of the fire, and I found myself struck by how funny and smart and pretty she was. And that was far more dangerous. I loved living alone, and I needed my solitude. The last thing on earth I needed was to get attached to her.

Which was why that kiss had been a mistake. Regardless of how good it felt, how right it felt, it was still wrong.

And now there was a storm coming. So once I wrapped things up here, I’d be stuck at home with her for God knew how long.

And I wasn’t sure my sanity would survive.

* * *

“You can come over to my house and ride out the storm,” I said, turning down Main Street.

My mother laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving. It’s just a snowstorm. The first of many this year.”

“But they’re predicting heavy snowfall and fierce winds. You could lose power, and things could get messy.” And this wasn’t just a ploy to force her into being an unwitting buffer between Parker and me. My mom was in her sixties, and while she was vibrant and active, she wasn’t up for shoveling multiple feet of snow.

“I’ve lived through more than sixty Maine winters, Pascal. I think I can manage.”

I gripped the steering wheel and gritted my teeth in frustration. As usual, Mom was brushing aside my concerns.

“And before you even ask, I’ve got plenty of food and water and a massive stack of firewood. Not to mention that very expensive whole-house generator you bought me. I probably won’t even notice the storm.”

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