Page 6 of Snowed in with the Grump

I find the tools Dylan needs and press them into his hand.

“This should get you rolling again. Get where you’re going before the worst hits.”

When Dylan asks about returning the tools, I tell him to keep them in case his truck needs more repairs.

“I appreciate your help,” he continues. “If there's any way I can repay your kindness--”

“No need,” I say.

The guy talks too much. He seems harmless, but his slippery answers raise my hackles. I'd prefer him to leave as soon as possible.

“Much obliged to you folks. Take care and stay safe in this storm.”

I give a curt parting nod and firmly close the shed, latches squealing against the wind. Ava watches me with those luminous blue eyes, a concerned pinch to her delicate features. She reaches out and touches my shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, even as my heart rate finally settles at her touch. “Just being cautious.”

Ava nods, but how can she grasp the extent of my hypervigilance after years of threat assessment conditioning?

She’s too open-hearted, too inclined to trust. It's one of the things I love about her, but it's also what makes her vulnerable. My gut twists with an unfamiliar protectiveness.

Ava jumps as a crack of thunder splits the darkening sky. Her eyes cloud with unease. I want so badly to pull her into my arms and promise we’ll weather this storm together, safe and sound.

I hesitate. She deserves someone who won’t recoil from closeness. Someone who understands how to provide comfort and connection.

I’m not the right person. I’m too damaged, too closed off after everything I've been through.

“Carter?” Ava’s voice quavers slightly as she stares at me with those fathomless eyes.

I blink, realizing she asked me something while I was lost in my spiraling thoughts.

“Sorry, what?”

Worry creases her brow, but her tone remains gentle. “Do you think the others will return before the worst hits?”

I want to shield her from uncertainty and fear, but false hope could be dangerous. The roads could become impassable, preventing the others from returning.

I rake a hand through my hair, my gaze fixed on the dark thunderheads rolling in.

“Can’t say for sure.”

Ava takes a shaky breath but sets her delicate jaw resolutely. I guide us toward the front steps, the wind whipping our clothes as fat raindrops begin to splatter down.

We sprint the last few yards to the porch as the downpour unleashes its fury. I secure the door against the raging wind, shutting out the worst of the storm, at least for now.

A particularly violent crack of thunder makes Ava jump. She pauses in front of the living room window, watching the thrashing trees and pouring rain, worry etched on her face.

I only hesitate for a moment before crossing the room to stand beside her.

“We'll ride this out,” I say gruffly. “I won't let anything bad happen.”

Ava searches my face with those luminous eyes. The surge of protectiveness welling up inside me is startling.

“Do you promise?” she asks softly.

My voice rasps with emotion. “I promise. No matter how bad it gets out there, I'll keep you safe.”

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