Page 22 of Zoe

“I don’t know about you, but I think Zoe will,” she said.

~

Kristen didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace at the thought of Zoe being trapped inside a cabin with her mate as Robert informed her of what he’d found this morning on his routine patrol. “Oh, lord,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know whether to clap or feel sorry for them, and I’m not sure which one to feel more sorry for.”

“I figured if he hasn’t dug himself out by tomorrow, I will lend a hand,” Robert couldn’t help but grin. “I’m a little miffed. I won’t get to see him make a fool of himself, but…” He shrugged.

“I hope Zoe doesn’t kill him,” Kristen muttered.

“Huh?”

“With kindness or by accident,” she said, grimacing. “He doesn’t lose his temper and become a howling mad wolf intent on eating anyone he comes across, does he?”

“No, he’s mellowed a lot since those days,” Robert said with a teasing smile. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“Says you, but you’ve never lived in close quarters with Zoe, and she gets cabin fever in a changing cubical.”

“That should prove – interesting,” he said, chuckling.

“Oh, lord,” Kristen said, frowning. “Maybe we should dig them out.”

“Nah, that’s why he’s got claws.”

“I thought that was all the better to slice and dice your prey with,” Kristen said.

Robert looked at her in mock horror. “Let’s hope not,” he said with a teasing smile.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

~

Zoe had dragged one of the kitchen stools over to the window and was looking out at the snow. It was falling lightly now, but she could see the snow drifts against the tree trunks, and when she’d opened the front door a little, the snow was over waist height and climbing.

That was not good.

Things would have been bad enough if she was just stuck in a small cabin with any old Tom, Dick, or Harry, but here she was – with a mate – and fate’s evil, wicked ways were going to be working overtime on the mating pull.

She had never heard of anybody successfully fighting the mating pull, but then she’d also never heard of anybody successfully fighting having a mate. What was a witch to do?

“That’s the spirit; melt it with your icy glace,” Billy said from behind the kitchen counter as he threw some eggs and bacon together, enough for the both of them because, surprisingly, she’d made him a coffee.

Zoe rolled her eyes up into her head and groaned inwardly. How could fate think he was suitable for her? “I have an idea; why don’t I use your thick head as a battering ram to get us out of here?” She tossed him a throwaway smile.

“Maybe you could just use your personality to repel the snow?” he tossed back.

Zoe placed the palm of her hand against the glass and wished for a miracle, but she didn’t put any magic behind it because that was dangerous. Wishes needed to be thought out, not just acted upon.

What was the point? Even if she decided to climb over the snow barrier at the door and leave, where would she go, and how would she get there?

“I think fate screwed up,” she said.

“Look at that; we agree on something,” Billy said, plating the food. “Drag your stool this way and eat.”

Zoe was hungry. Her stomach had an ache that turned into a full-blown rumble and grumble once he’d started cooking, and when the smell of food hit her nose, it only got worse. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Zoe dropped from the stool and padded across the room. She picked up the plate and headed back to the window. “Thank you, looks good,” she tossed back over her shoulder.

Manners counted, even with him.

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