Page 25 of Love in the Storm

Seriously, why had Lyric rushed outside to get the generator? A few minutes to put on gloves wouldn’t have hurt. Impulsivity didn’t make much sense. He took his time and prepared for everything, and he still forgot things, like Jacob’s field trips.

Well, maybe his way wasn’t working either, but at least he wasn’t in danger of getting frostbite on the way to his truck.

With Lyric out of sight, he could focus on things that needed to be done, like getting his phone charger from his wrecked vehicle at the end of the drive.

After shoveling a path in the snow, he made it to the truck. Snow covered the wreckage, masking the damage. It had been too dark to see much the night before, but Asa’s bet was it would be totaled. He’d been driving the same truck for years, and it had served him well.

He’d taken Jacob on their first hunting trip together in that truck. It held some of the best memories of his life.

It was just a truck–a material possession. He’d come out of it with a scratch, and he’d walked away from the incident thanks to Lyric.

Asa might not agree with her spontaneity, but her quick action had certainly done him some good.

He shoveled snow away from the door and pried it open. The inside was trashed. Nothing had stayed in its place during the wreck. Rummaging through the scattered things, he spotted the charger and shoved it in his pocket along with his wallet, gun, and an extra jacket. He’d grab the other things when the wrecker came.

On his way back to the cabin, he stopped next to the mound of snow that covered Lyric’s car. He didn’t have the keys now, but if they ended up stuck here much longer, he’d make another trip out to get her things if she wanted.

Lyric hadn’t asked for much of anything really. There were a million things she could have complained about, but she’d taken it all in stride,trying her best to make their situation better. Asa hadn’t expected to feel like part of a team when they were first snowed in together, but now the dynamic they’d settled into was working.

He stepped back inside and pulled off the layers. They’d need to be dried again. Quickly closing himself in the bedroom, he located the dreaded robe and changed out of his wet clothes. Asa hadn’t worn a robe in his life before yesterday, and he was making up for lost time. He looked down at the lower halves of his legs and frowned. He wore shorts in summer. This wasn’t any different, right? The fluffy material was great and all, but the possibility of exposure kept him on guard.

He padded downstairs in his bare feet, hooked the dryer to the generator, and threw his clothes in. The fan in the fireplace was circulating the warm air now, and this level of the cabin was toasty. Too bad he couldn’t shed a layer to find a comfortable medium.

His stomach rumbled, and he checked the fridge. The bacon and eggs were calling his name, and he eyed the stove. There were few things he wouldn’t do for bacon and eggs.

He grabbed the pack of bacon and the carton of eggs and halted. How did Lyric like hers cooked? He opened and scanned all the cabinets, making sure he had the things he’d need.

Asa was pulling the bacon out of the pan when Lyric walked into the kitchen. She stretched her arms above her head, and he stared long enough that the flimsy meat flopped off the fork.

Lyric grinned in a contented way that had Asa’s central nervous system jamming up. Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun, and she was back in that stupid robe again.

It was a stupid robe because it madehimstupid.

She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Um, I didn’t know how you liked your bacon. Or eggs. Or if you liked bacon and eggs.”

“Love them. However you cook them. As long as you’re doing the cooking and not me, I have no complaints.”

“You don’t like to cook?” Asa asked.

Lyric leaned back against the counter. “I do, but I want to curl up in a sleepy puddle right now. I slept so restlessly last night.”

“Eat breakfast, then take a nap,” he offered.

She yawned and shook her head. “I’ll try to tough it out.”

Asa opened the egg carton and pulled out four. “So, what’s the verdict on your eggs?”

“Scrambled or fried.”

“Noted. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready?”

“I’ll set the table,” she said as she reached for the cabinet beside the microwave. Next, she pulled a bottle of ketchup from the fridge.

Asa eyed the bottle. “Why do you need ketchup?”

“I like ketchup on my eggs.”

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