Page 21 of Snowed in with the Grump

I nod, gathering whatever I can find as Carter surveys the cabin. I don’t remember when anyone took such care to protect me.

I feel utterly safe in his hands. He's so capable, so strong—but at what cost?

I’m torn between admiration and sorrow. Carter's skills were honed by living through danger. Beneath the capable exterior lies a heart that associates love with loss and strength with control. How much of his need for control is driven by fear?

With the final window checked, his shoulders drop a fraction as he exhales.

“Thank you for keeping me safe.” I squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back, but his brow furrows. “The generator didn’t kick in. The fire will keep us warm for now, but we need to bank it before turning in for the night. We’ll need to go to bed soon to preserve body heat.”

Heat creeps up my neck at the thought. Going to bed isn’t sexy, but it's practical. I follow him down the shadowy hall to the bedroom.

When I begin to undress, I see a flicker of desire in his eyes. It’s instantly extinguished as he turns his back, finds a spare blanket and pillow, and settles on the armchair.

So stoic. Although Carter’s unlikely to admit it, he needs the closeness as much as I do tonight.

“We could share,” I say softly. “To stay warm.”

Relief flickers across his face. “Only if you're sure.”

“I am.”

We prepare for bed in the dim light of the room, our movements slow and deliberate, our senses heightened to the other’s every shuffle and sigh.

I slip under the covers first, my pulse quickening as the soft rustle of clothing signals Carter’s undressing.

The mattress dips under his weight as his hand finds mine in the darkness. I lace my fingers through his, our palms kissing. His grip tightens as his breathing slows.

I hold my breath, lightly tracing my fingertips along his rugged jaw. He sighs with pleasure, head leaning heavily into my hand.

Our lips meet, sparking like tinder. Excitement thrums through my veins when his strong hands grip my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.

I slide my fingers through his thick hair, losing myself in the moment. He pulls away, our foreheads still touching, and his taste lingers on my lips, as sweet as honey.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when your heart wants something, you need to be brave and grab it while you can. Nuzzling against his neck, I whisper his name.

He kisses the top of my head. “Anything you want, sweet Sunshine.”

“Can I stop pretending I don't want you?”

“No more games. It’s time we were honest with each other.”

I’m relieved, but I need more. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

He blows out a breath. “Of course I did. You don’t understand what it was like.”

I need answers to questions that have been years in the making. “If you had feelings, why did you leave?”

His voice holds a desperate edge. “You were seventeen.”

“Almost eighteen.”

“Barely seventeen,” he counters firmly.

There it is—proof confirming my suspicions. I was a teenager with a silly crush. I was too young for Carter to see me as anything other than his sister’s friend.

“Okay. So you left because I was too—” I say before my voice cracks.

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