Page 6 of Snowed In with Benefits

She catches her breath and looks at me with her warm brown eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. I smile at her gently and she blinks and steps back just enough to pull her hair from my fingers. The magic of the moment shatters.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.

“Don’t have to do what?”

“Let me stay. I don’t have to.”

“Of course you do.” I brush my hair off my forehead and huff a little laugh. “Trust me, it’s fine. Beau has a habit of taking in strays. He always takes real good care of them.”

“Oh, so you do this for all the women who get stranded out here?”

I grin at her. “I guess we’ll find out,” I tell her. “You’re the first.”

5

JOSIE

My heart pounds as I follow Hunter back to the living room. The way he touched me just now… no man has touched me in any kind of intimate way in a long, long time. No man except Preston, of course. God, what would Preston think of me shacking up with three men out in the middle of nowhere? The thought makes me wince.

I can still feel his thumb on my lip, that gentle little touch. So small, so meaningless, and yet it makes my pulse spike. Or maybe it’s just one of the things making my heart race right now. I’m blocking out the thoughts, but they’re pressing at the back of my head. The wedding. The people I left behind.

Then there’s these guys. Hunter seems nice enough, but I wouldn’t say he’s exactly trustworthy. I don’t trust his dimply smile, his charm, or the fact that he smells really, really good. He smells like a snack in the woods, like cinnamon and oak. I don’t trust the feelings crawling through my belly at the mere memory of his touch. I could get into a lot of trouble with him.

But trouble from who? Nobody knows I’m here. That thought makes me shiver a little. I’m out here completely on my own with a bunch of strangers, so very far from everything… as they can’t help but remind me every chance they get. I’m sure they’re not trying to make me nervous, but each of them have said it in their own unique ways. I’m utterly isolated from all society but theirs. I have no choice but to trust them… at least a little.

The other men have left the living room. I don’t know where they went; there are a few options from here. I struggle to focus through my whirling thoughts. They could be upstairs in their rooms, down here in the workshop, or back the way I just came from in the office or the kitchen. All I know for sure is that they aren’t here. That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I’d rather know where they are, even if it doesn’t logically make a difference.

As Hunter pulls blankets and pillows from the closet under the stairs, it strikes me that I’m on my own for the first time in years. There’s no Preston watching my every move, no mother to tell me that I’m doing everything wrong, no sister to compare to. There’s just me, and these strangers, and the scattered remains of my past life lying on the floor. I stand here awkwardly as Hunter starts spreading blankets over the couch.

“I don’t have any sheets that’ll fit this couch.” He gives me a dimpled, apologetic smile. “So I suggest just sleeping between the blankets.”

“That’s fine. It’s just one night, anyway.”

He gets a strange look on his face, then chuckles a little. “Just make yourself at home, okay?”

“Sure.”

He tosses a couple of pillows on the couch, gives me a smile and a wink that sends a rush of heat through my belly, then heads upstairs. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. A simple touch and a wink and now I’m all… whatever this is. It must just be the novelty of light flirting after so long.

I straighten the blankets on the couch. It’s not necessary, Hunter did a fine job, I just need something to do with my hands. I find an outlet and plug my nearly dead phone in, setting it on the table beside the couch.

Opening my suitcase, I spend a few minutes organizing my clothes into “never going to wear here” and “could potentially wear tomorrow.” There isn’t much potential for wearing anything. I’ll have to buy clothes tomorrow whenever I make it to a city.

Speaking of clothes… my eyes wander to the middle of the living room where my wedding dress is still sitting in a pile. The bright white stands out like a sore thumb in the middle of the rustic living room. I go to it, hovering close by, as though it’s a feral cat or something that will bite me if I get too close.

I want to wad it up unceremoniously and shove it in my bag. Unfortunately, my bag was supposed to be my carryon, and it isn’t exactly big enough for an entire wedding dress. I wish I was comfortable enough here to just put it in the closet so I don’t have to look at it anymore, but I’m not.

I don’t want to look at it. I don’t want to think about what it represents. I don’t want to think about the vows that I was supposed to give to Preston today, or the thousands upon thousands of wasted dollars that we poured into the ill-fated ceremony. Except it wasn’t fate, was it? It was just me, my panic, my last-minute desperate act to save what little bit of myself remained in me.

I touch the locket around my neck. Nana would have told me that I did the right thing today. She was always the one who cheered me on when I thought outside the box, when I did things my own way instead of trying to be like everybody else. I just wish I’d remembered that a long time ago. I wish she was still here. I just need one person on my side right now, because I know nobody is.

Anyway, I can’t just leave the dress on the floor. Not because the dress deserves better, but because the guys deserve better. They basically saved my life. Repaying them with a mess in the middle of the floor is beyond rude, it’s downright toxic. I pick the dress up and drape it over the back of the couch. I’m not sure what else to do with it.

My stomach grumbles and I realize that I haven’t eaten since very early this morning. I bite my lip. He did tell me to make myself at home, didn’t he? Maybe I could just sleep it off—my stomach growls louder. Okay, fine, I won’t wait. Let’s see what three guys keep in their kitchen.

The fridge is fully stocked. Like, overwhelmingly stocked. In the piles of food, I find eggs and a kielbasa sausage. Good enough. I’m not an amazing cook or anything, but I know enough to make myself some scrambled eggs and sausage. I fumble around the kitchen for a minute looking for a pan, a knife, and a spatula. Eventually I get everything together and start cooking.

I have the heat too high right off the bat, so the eggs cook faster than the sausage. I turn the heat down, but it’s too late. I’ve already overcooked half of it and undercooked the rest. Fortunately, the sausage came fully-cooked so I’m not going to get worms or anything. I’m not that picky. I just need something in my stomach.