Page 103 of Ice Me Out

“Can’t wait,” he said, parking in front of the cabin.

The cabin sat at the edge of the vineyard, tucked between evergreens and a slope of trellised vines. From a distance, it had looked too picturesque—the perfect place for couples to lose themselves in each other, like the outside world didn’t exist. Up close, it was rustic with thoughtful touches that made it look homey.

The siding was cedar, and the porch wrapped around the front with two rocking chairs. A string of warm bulbs hung under the eaves, producing soft, intimate lighting.

“Well… this is it,” Hart mumbled, staring at the cabin through the windshield.

“This is it,” I whispered.

“Let me get the door open, check things out, and then I’ll come back for you.”

I nodded. “Good. You need to make sure your cousin isn’t in there.”

Hart paused and shot me a confused look. “My cousin?”

“Michael Myers.”

He rolled his eyes and shifted out of the truck. “You’re not funny.”

I snickered, watching him climb the porch steps. I only took my eyes off him for a minute to respond to some texts when Hart made me regret meeting him. I screamed when he snuck around the truck, banged his fists against my window, and yelled. He guffawed as I scrambled to unbuckle myself. I chased him to the porch, and that idiot was laughing so hard he dropped the key.

“See. You play too much. That’s exactly why you’d be one of the first to die in a horror movie,” I said, snatching the key up.

“I’d die first in a horror movie?” he exclaimed. “Sugar, you called out to a dark figure that was watching you in the corner of the bedroom.”

“I knew it was you,” I hissed, shoving the key into the lock.

“Mhm.”

I twisted the knob and pushed the door open, but before I could take a step, Hart scooped me up.

“What—”

“I gotta carry you over the threshold.” My body went completely limp. He laughed. “You can dead-weight me all you want, but it’s happening.”

I smirked and hit the door jamb with my closed fist. “Ow!”

“Holy shit. Did I hit your head? Shit, Vera!” Hart panicked, setting me on my feet. I pressed a hand to my forehead and swayed on my feet. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

I squinted, pretending I couldn’t see his two fingers. “Four?”

“Oh, my God.”

I laughed. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His shoulders dropped. “That’s fucked up, Verydian.”

I put my hands on my hips and raised a brow. “And scaring me like that in the truck wasn’t?”

“This place is pretty nice,” Hart said, changing the subject.

I took a moment to check out our surroundings. The space opened into a single room with high, exposed beams that matched the warm wood throughout. The smell of oak cut through the rain and earth scents that we brought with us. A small kitchenette sat to the right, stocked with some snacks and a bottle of Bellamy Vineyard Chardonnay. To the left, a stone fireplace took up most of the wall, and a stack of neatly cut logs sat beside it.

Straight back was the bedroom. I paused at the foot of the king-sized bed and stared at the thick quilt folded at the foot. The pillows looked inviting, like they’d been fluffed by God himself. Hart stepped in behind me, bringing in the warmth that usually followed him. He didn’t touch me… just… made his presence known before leaving to scope out the bathroom.

“There’s a clawfoot bathtub in here. I think we can both fit.”

I shook my head and pressed my hand into the mattress. “Not with your legs,” I said, holding back a groan. The mattress sank under my hand and begged me to lie down—just for a second. I dropped my coat on an armchair, peeled back the comforter, and eased onto the bed. “Oh, that’s nice,” I whispered, lying down. I laced my fingers and rested my hands on my stomach.