Page 5 of Snowed in with the Grump

I shake my head, a hint of a smile tugging my lips. “That thing weighs a ton. Let me help.”

What the hell. I may as well say what's on my mind. She makes me want to look out for her. I mean to tell her I'll set a trap for the “mouse” later, but insistent knocking at the door interrupts me mid-thought.

We exchange glances.

I let her pass, catching a whiff of her shampoo—coconut and vanilla. If I were to kiss her, would she taste as sweet? Would her lips melt into mine, like in my dreams?

Kissing Ava makes me think of summer and possibilities, two things I've avoided for a long time.

As soon as I finish this repair for my sister, I'm packing up and driving until I outrun temptation. Putting miles between us until the fire in my chest cools to embers.

I'll leave before I do something stupid, like pulling her into my arms and kissing her sweet lips.

Safer for her if I make a clean break. I’m no good for her. The darkness in me would swallow her up. She'll forget about me soon enough. Find some whole, untarnished guy to give her the life she deserves.

The thought cuts deep, but I ignore the pang. I’ve got to keep it together a little longer, but damn, she’s testing my restraint.

A bearded stranger stands by the steps with a gloved hand raised in greeting. I don’t like unexpected visitors this deep in the mountains, especially with a storm blowing in.

I instinctively step in front of Ava, shielding her smaller frame.

“Apologies for intruding, folks. Name’s Dylan,” he calls over the wind. “Having some car trouble down the road. Any chance I could borrow some tools?”

I keep my tone brusque. “What seems to be the trouble with your car?”

“The engine’s sputtering something awful,” Dylan explains. “Hoping I can get it limping to the next town before this storm bottoms out.”

I hang back, shoulders tensed. His friendly tone does little to curb my wariness after years of vigilant threat assessment.

“You're not from around here?” I ask.

Dylan shrugs. It’s a carefully neutral gesture.

“So what brings you out to these parts?” I ask.

His easy smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Passing through on the way to visit my brother. He's got a business around here.”

I notice the man’s spotless boots and pressed shirt. Crisp and well-groomed, he stands like he's awaiting inspection.

“Ex-military?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

“Yeah. Just got out.” He looks me over. “You too?”

I hum noncommittally and an awkward silence settles. Dylan’s guarded expression mirrors mine. Two men sizing each other up, neither willing to reveal too much.

Ava touches my arm, her blue eyes sympathetic. “Carter, we should try to help.”

I give a terse nod and gesture for him to follow me toward the tool shed, resolute in keeping this stranger away from the cabin.

“That’s quite a front blowing in, isn’t it?” Ava remarks, eyeing the towering pines swaying violently.

“Best batten down anything loose out here before she hits,” Dylan says over the rising wind.

Ava rubs her arms against the chill, tendrils of hair whipping wildly across her worried face. All I want is to pull her close and reassure her, but I clench my jaw instead.

We’ve reached the shed, its door rattling in the mounting wind. Dylan's eyes dart around with interest. He asks questions about the cabin's history.

I fold my arms, jaw tightening as I give short, polite replies, hoping he'll take the hint to move along soon.

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