Page 12 of Entangled
“I’m sure it would be,” I murmur, unable to stop myself from staring, even as heat floods my face. “But some of us don’t have that luxury.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but his words—and my response—finally register. He snaps his jaw shut. Blinking a few times, he clears his throat. “I meant the road. Snow removal.”
“I know what you meant.”
“I shouldn’t have to make deliveries in these conditions.” He points to the glistening snow-covered path. “It’s inconsiderate.”
“It’s winter. Snow happens sometimes. Get over it.”
“Easy for you to say when you don’t have to drive all over the county with a truck full of other people’s shit.”
“Were you forced to take this job?” He doesn’t answer. “That’s what I thought.” I motion for him to enter the kitchen. “C’mon, you’re letting the cold in.”
“Actually, I’m letting the heat out. Basic thermodynamics.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Mr. Fahrenheit. Now, can I please have my box, or would you rather keep it?”
“Are you offering?” he mutters, stepping into the doorway when a particularly strong gust of wind blasts him. His presence sucks all the oxygen from my kitchen.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He thrusts the package toward me. “Here.”
The box is so heavy, I nearly drop it the second it’s in my hands. “Holy shit.” I stagger the few feet to my counter and slide it onto the granite top.
What the hell did I order that weighs so much?
When you don’t leave the house and have literally everything from groceries to paper goods delivered, it’s easy to forget what you’ve ordered.
“A little warning would’ve been nice. I nearly broke my back.”
“If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it from me.” He holds out his tablet. “Sign here.”
“Why are you such an asshole?”
“Any number of reasons. Depends on the day. Sign please.” He nudges my arm with the device. “I’ve got places to be.”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not signing anything until you show some fucking manners.”
His dark gaze meets mine. “I amtryingto do a job here, Ms. Punzel.”
“Right. And as a paying customer, I don’t like your attitude.”
“You don’t need to like me.”
“Are you always this grumpy?” He narrows his eyes instead of answering. “Ah, I thought so. That’s unfortunate.” I brush past him and close the door, then usher him deeper into the kitchen, positioning myself between him and the exit he’s so eager to use. “What’s the matter? I already know you’re pissed off, but what else is going on? Are you tired? Hungry? Sad? Talk to me. I’m a great listener.”
His deep brown eyes bore into mine for what feels like an eternity, and what I see inside them cracks me wide open. There’s pain. Anger. Fear. And bone-deep loneliness. Maybe we’re not so different after all. Yet, swirling around in all those turbulent emotions, I glimpse the tiniest spark of hope.
“All of the above,” he mumbles after a mile-long stretch of silence.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“You’re my last stop, Ms. Punzel.” He rubs the back of his neck and releases a heavy sigh, setting the tablet on my counter. “It’s been a long week. There’s no end in sight now that Tony’s out. All I want to do is go home and rot on my couch with a beer, so I’d appreciate if you’dpleasesign for your package and let me leave.” He gives the signature line an expectant tap.
My heart clenches, seeing the weary sadness in his gaze. “Did you like the muffin?”
His eyes soften ever so slightly. “Yes. Thank you. It was gone by the time I reached the bottom of the mountain.”
