Page 1 of Snowed in with the Grump

CHAPTER1

AVA

The cracked leather steering wheel groans under my white-knuckled grip as my sedan bounces down the rutted forest road. I wince each time a rock or fallen branch scrapes the undercarriage with a sickening screech.

There’s no cell reception this far up the remote mountain pass. If I get a flat out here, I’m stranded for who knows how long in the frigid December air.

I glance in the rearview mirror, half-hoping I’ll spot another car in the distance, but there are only miles of empty road cutting through endless bare trees.

Dad reminded me at least ten times to replace the bald spare tire before he and Mom jetted off to the Caribbean for another “empty nester” getaway.

But it slipped my mind between moping over my perennial single status and picking up extra shifts at the bakery to earn some holiday cash.

Now I’m cursing myself for not making the time. Each bump in the road has me picturing the threadbare tire blowing and sending me into a snowy ditch.

I’d give anything to be able to roll down the window and fill my lungs with fresh pine and damp earth to ground myself, but the feeble heater is already struggling to combat the icy chill invading the car.

I sigh with relief when the familiar log cabin comes into view. As I pull up in the driveway, my pulse settles. I’ve arrived in one piece at the secluded family cabin where I’ve spent so many vacations.

I rub my hands together and blow on them, bracing myself to face the cold. I twist the key, and the engine wheezes off.

The frigid air blasts me as I step out. I try not to let my shoulders slump as I make my way to the trunk. I grab an armful of festively wrapped packages and kick it closed. Here goes nothing. It’s time to fake holiday cheer.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Sarah to death. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, but I've become the third wheel since she hooked up with Matt.

Spending Christmas with Sarah, Matt, and their friends, Ivy and Easton, means I’ll be the lone single in a cabin full of happy couples. It’s like getting a front-row seat to watch my failures in the dating department play out in surround sound.

At least there will be plenty of alcohol, and I plan to partake if it will help me survive. I shake off the self-pity party before knocking. The door creaks open, and my greeting dies on my lips.

Sarah’s older brother Carter, my longtime crush and leading man in my private fantasies, fills the doorway. His tall frame is bundled against the cold, but he’s filled out more since I saw him almost five years ago. Now, he’s practically bursting the seams of his wool coat.

I drink him in, nerves simmering in my belly. Artfully tousled dark hair frames the stormy gray eyes pinning me in place. That jawline could cut glass. Damn, he looks good. In our time apart, Carter’s gone from handsome to dangerously hot.

I stand frozen, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I’m completely blindsided. Sarah didn’t mention anything about Carter being here. My biggest temptation has ambushed me, and I’m completely unprepared.

Get it together, Ava. Stop being a weirdo.

I break his gaze and try to slow my pounding heart by tightening my grip around the gift bags to anchor myself. Carter is off-limits. Sarah would flip if she knew I had secretly crushed on her big brother all these years.

He steps out onto the snow-dusted porch, frosty air steaming from his full lips.

“Ava. Hey,” he says, surprise flickering across his face.

His voice is a rumbling scrape, sending an involuntary shiver through me that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Carter, wow. I had no idea you’d be joining us,” I say with what I hope is a passable smile.

“I’m not staying. I only stopped by to do some repairs,” he says, eyeing my sedan, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I'm surprised your rust bucket made it up the mountain in this weather.”

I never seem to save enough money to upgrade my old beater, and Carter’s criticism stings. “She may look like junk, but she's sturdy.”

“If you say so.”

He keeps staring with one eyebrow cocked and an infuriating smirk on his lips, making me want to smack him and kiss him all at the same time. I awkwardly shuffle the packages in my grip, unable to hold his eyes for long.

“Let me help you with those,” he says, looping the bags over his thick wrist. The muscles in his forearm flex from the weight as he drops the bags inside.

I force myself to look away. “Thanks. There are more bags in the trunk.”

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