“Hungry?” he asks me.

  My stomach answers for me.

  He’s pulled his pants and shirt back on. I tell myself it’s for warmth, and he’ll get naked with me again, but I don’t know for sure.

  “You want cheese and carrots, or do you want to eat blindfolded and have something that you’d rather not realize you’re eating?” he asks me.

  Sweet man doesn’t want to feed me a gingerbread house if he thinks it’ll make me upset. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “Boozy truffles for breakfast it is.”

  I reach for my hoodie, but he makes a noise.

  I lift a brow at him.

  “Can I watch you eat naked?”

  My vagina clenches in anticipation and my breasts tingle in excitement. “You want to see this?” I ask, giving him a peek at one nipple.

  His Adam’s apple bobs and he adjusts himself in his pants as he looks down at me. “Yes. But not if you’re cold.”

  I push up to sitting and let the quilts fall to my waist. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  He stares at my breasts.

  I rub my hands under them, then pinch my nipples.

  “Fuck, Aspen,” he rasps.

  “Bring the boozy chocolates.”

  It’s amusing that he thinks he’s too old for me when he can move that fast.

  One moment, I’m watching his ass in his jeans, and the next, he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed, stripped down himself, and crawling up to me with a box of truffles in one hand.

  Tight muscles cover his shoulders and chest, and his erection stands tall and proud from a thatch of light brown hair. I reach for it as he holds a truffle to my mouth.

  His eyes cross, and he swipes the chocolate over my cheek.

  “Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters.

  I giggle.

  And when he offers me the truffle again, I suck his fingers into my mouth with the chocolate treat.

  His cock twitches in my hand.

  I squeeze it lightly, then stroke it up and down, watching his eyes slide shut as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth. “Aspen…”

  “Nowhere to go,” I whisper. “All we have to do is stay warm today.”

  He growls, and then the man has his face between my thighs, doing exactly what he promised last night and eating me for breakfast.

  His tongue on my seam, his lips sucking on my clit, his fingers teasing my inner thighs—it’s not thirty seconds before I’m coming in a blindingly hot flash of heaven.

  And as I’m lying there panting, he looks up at me and smirks.

  Smirks.

  Like I told you so or something.

  “You’re—really good—at that,” I pant. “Did you—practice—on a—watermelon?”

  He dips his head to my stomach and laughs.

  I could lie here forever, running my fingers through his hair, my body warm from the afterglow of an orgasm.

  But it doesn’t work that way when the power’s out, apparently.

  He snags the covers and pulls them up over both of us as he settles next to me, pressing kisses to my shoulder and neck.

  “I like you,” he murmurs.

  “I like you too,” I whisper back while I arch into his erection again.

  We both fall silent, letting our hands and our bodies do the talking as I hook a leg around his hip and scoot closer, rubbing my pussy against his cock again.

  He holds my gaze as he slides into me, silently asking all of the questions.

  Is this okay? Are you okay? Do you want more? Oh, right there, hmm? This too?

  I can’t remember the last time I had four orgasms in under twelve hours, but here we are, with me biting his shoulder as I come hard and fast again, my body responding like this is what it’s been missing my entire life.

  How is it so easy to be with him?

  Is this the snowed-in effect?

  Is it the fire?

  Or is it simply him?

  While we lie panting, limbs still tangled, both of us still on our sides, he once again pulls me closer.

  I don’t date guys who pull me closer. I date guys who get off, say things like thanks, love, let’s do that again soon, and get back up and go about their days.

  But Cash—he’s sighing that bone-deep, contented sigh as I snuggle closer against his body.

  If the real world didn’t exist, if we didn’t eventually have to leave here—possibly on foot to get to the nearest cabin through the snow if we run out of firewood—I’d let myself be happy.

  Believe in this.

  But I know it can’t last forever.

  Especially when his stomach grumbles too.

  “Possibly that was more of a workout than breakfast?” I tease.

  He shifts, leaning over me to grab the chocolates, then settles back in close.

  He feeds me one first, then pops one in his own mouth. “I haven’t had candy for breakfast since I was a kid.”

  “Living on the edge out here.”

  “I’ll be hyped up like a chipmunk in the next thirty minutes.”

  I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

  It’s music.

  The best kind of music.

  “You need your journal?” he asks after a while.

  Huh.

  I don’t.

  Not at all, in fact. Not even to write down how amazing this has been.

  I don’t want to vomit these moments out of my brain.

  I want to keep living in them.

  He plays with my hair. I trace patterns on his chest.

  This, my heart whispers again. This is what’s missing.

  We lie like this for hours, but eventually, we’re both starving enough to get up for real food. While we roast chicken strips over the fire with the longest silverware we can find, we make small talk until small talk turns to real talk.

  I tell him a few of the shorter stories about why I hate the holidays.

  He tells me he’s getting tired of Hollywood, and also that I should spend time with his family at weird holidays like Groundhog Day and Talk Like a Pirate Day since everyone deserves a holiday they love.

  I tell him I’m afraid I’ll be a one-hit wonder.

  While several of my songs have charted, they haven’t charted high.

  Not like “Forget Christmas.”

  “You’ll hit with another song.” His voice is now rough whiskey, and I want to drown in it.

  “Another Christmas song,” I mutter as I test my chicken. Not quite done.

  He snorts in amusement. “So don’t record more.”

  “What if that’s all that my audience wants from me though? What if I’m Mariah Carey but without the rest of her catalog?”

  “Do you want to keep recording normal-time songs?”

  “Yes.” I love performing. I love singing. I don’t care if there’s one person or a thousand in the audience. “But if I’m a one-hit wonder with a Christmas song, I’m done. I’ll go back to remote jobs and find a new hobby and squat in your pool house forever.”

  “You are not a one-hit wonder.” He pauses in roasting his own chicken to tuck a lock of hair behind my ears, and I get a whole-body shiver at his touch.

  The good kind of whole-body shiver. “I don’t think you understand the way my karma works in the universe. It’s so bad, I was probably one of those people in a previous life who lived to yuck other people’s yums and always left grocery carts in the middle of the parking lot even though I was able-bodied enough to return them to the cart holders.”

  His gaze drops to my lips.

  My belly drops to the floor.

  I shouldn’t want him to kiss me again. We’ve already made this more complicated for when we go back to the real world.

  But I feel so safe here with him.

  Cherished. Appreciated. Adored.

  “Some people get all of their hard parts out of the way early in life,” he says. “That’s you. You’ve gotten the hard things out of the way, and everything from here on out is clear skies and smooth sailing.”

  “Your confidence is adorable.”

  “There’s this thing that when you get snowed in with someone, you swap luck. I have the best family. Great friends. Already had two great careers. Still have time to find another if I want. When we get out of here, you’re taking all of my luck with you. Your everyday songs are gonna explode, Aspen. You’ll find the people you call family. And you’ll be happy.”

  My heart is a jackhammer trying to get through my breastbone. I want to believe him. I want to believe him so badly it hurts.

  But more, I want to kiss him.

  I want to kiss him more than I want to breathe.

  Again.

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  He smiles at me. “I look forward to the day you eat those words.”

  I’m looking forward to being trapped here with him for a few more days.

  Because here, I can kiss him.

  Here, I can believe he wants to be one of those people I call family. That he wants to be one of those people who call me family.

  That our friendship is supposed to progress this way forever.

  And that I don’t have to be afraid.

  13

  Cash

  The power stays off all day, but it’s still the good kind of day.

  The best, actually.

  Kissing.

  Sex.

  She pulls out her guitar. She sings for me. I take it and sing for her.

  Old stuff.

  Bro Code stuff with lyrics changed that has her laughing so hard she cries.

  We peek out the windows, and she gets teary-eyed again.

  Not because the three feet or so of snow on the ground is trapping us here either.

  “It’s even prettier than in the movies,” she whispers.

  “You’ve never seen this much snow?”

  She shakes her head, and I get the joy of watching her soak in the wonder of something beautiful and new. “I wish I brought clothes for a snowball fight.”

  I promise her there’s far more fun to be had in the snow than a simple snowball fight, and I’m not just talking about sex in an igloo.

  She teases me about being a big kid at heart.

  Not wrong.

  Now, once again, we’re snuggled on the mattress in front of the fire as the clock creeps later and later. I don’t want to panic her, but we’re starting to run low on firewood. We can make it through tonight, possibly into tomorrow morning, but not much longer.

  If the power doesn’t come back on, we’ll have to try hiking out.

  But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

  Tonight, I’m soaking up every minute of being with this woman.

  Touching her. Tasting her. Talking to her.

  Dozing off.

  Waking up to put more wood on the fire.

  Crawling back into bed with Aspen.

  If she has any more nightmares, they don’t wake her, and she doesn’t tell me about them.

  She does curl into me and rub my back and squeeze my ass and stroke my cock though.

  By the time morning comes, I don’t know if I’ve slept or not, and I don’t care.

  For the first time in years, I feel rested.

  Bone-deep rested.

  Happy.

  But that’s before the sound of a chainsaw rips through the air.

  It’s muffled—clearly outside—but that is definitely a chainsaw.

  Aspen jolts straight upright at the noise. “What?” she gasps.

  “Stay. I’ll check it out.”

  I grab my pants and head for the window, where I’m equal parts surprised and not surprised by what I see.

  It’s Davis, in front of a truck with a snowplow, tackling the tree that fell and blocked the driveway the other night. Even bundled up in a coat and stocking cap, it’s easy to tell it’s Davis.

  One, takes a big stocking cap to cover his man bun, and two, that’s definitely his beard.

  “Rescue’s here,” I say to Aspen as someone else knocks on the door.

  She makes a noise, then ducks under the covers.

  I pull on my shirt and head to the door, where I find—shit.

  Cooper.

  He’s in a big winter coat and snow boots too, though his head is bare.

  “Little weather trouble out here?” he says with a grin that I don’t entirely trust.

  I’ve been playing hide the sausage with a woman his girlfriend cares about, and it won’t take him long to figure that out.

  “Little bit,” I say.

  “Power should be back on—now.” He grins wider as a soft pop sounds behind me, and then the overhead light blinks on.

  Aspen peeks out from under the covers, sucks in an audible breath, and dives back under the quilts.

  “Shower,” I hear her whisper.

  Cooper looks at me.

  Then angles his head toward the interior of the cabin.

  “Just you two?” I ask him with a nod to Davis. “Let me grab my coat. I can help shovel.”

  Cooper doesn’t move.

  Dude takes his time crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me.

  “Don’t be an ass,” Aspen calls from under the covers.

  “There’s only one woman in the world who can tell me that, and you’re not her,” he replies.

  “Does Waverly know you still only take orders from your mother?” Aspen retorts.

  Cooper cracks a grin, looks at me, and goes straight-faced again. “Why are you here?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Aspen orders.

  Cooper’s nose twitches like he can smell what we’ve been up to.

  “Cabin’s on a well,” I tell him. “No power, no water. And the chicken almost went bad.”

  “That doesn’t answer why you’re here.”

  “I’ve been ordered to not tell you.”

  We have a stare-down.

  “You two asshats gonna keep staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, or are you gonna get out here and help with the snow?” Davis calls.

  “They didn’t send a helicopter?” Aspen’s voice is still muffled under the covers.

  Cooper half snorts, then frowns like he didn’t consider the helicopter, then finally grins again. “We don’t love him that much.”

  “Davis needs to keep himself busy or he gets in trouble,” I add.

  “Huh,” Aspen says. “That makes sense. Cooper too.”

  The back door of the extended cab with the snowplow opens, and Waverly pokes her own beanie-covered head out.

  “Is Aspen in there? Is she okay?”

  Aspen sticks her head all the way out of the quilts but keeps her neck and shoulders covered.

  “Was that Waverly?”

  Cooper leans past me to look at her. “Yeah, she wanted to check on you herself, but she can’t get through the snow yet.”

  Aspen’s eyes get shiny. “Then get to work.”

  I’m already grabbing my coat and boots.

  Davis is alternating between clearing snow off the fallen tree and cutting segments of it to clear the road. I start shoveling a path to the cars. Cooper wades through the nearly waist-high snow to get back to the truck, then returns to join me with a second shovel.

  Waverly follows him and heads into the cabin in the path his longer legs made.

  I hear a shriek, and then rapid-fire talking, and I can’t stop a smile despite the growing dread in my chest.

  We’re getting our rescue.

  Power’s back on.

  Aspen will be able to get to the store.

  She doesn’t need me here anymore.

  So is this it?

  Is this the end?

  Or is this the beginning?

  “You didn’t do anything I’ll have to kick your ass for, did you?” Cooper asks me while I shovel.

  “Nope.” Yep.

  “You know I’m going to take Waverly’s word for the answer to that more than yours, right?”

  “I’d kick your ass if you didn’t.”

  He pauses with the shovel in the snow and props his arms on it. “Why’d you come out here?”

  “Wrong answers only?”

  “Aspen’s like another sister to me, except I like her more than my real sister, and most of the time, I like my real sister a hell of a lot,” he reminds me.

  Fuck.

  I think I owe him the truth.

  Especially since he’s out here digging me out as much as he’s digging Aspen out.

  “I thought I scared her away from Beck’s party, so I came to apologize.”

  “How?”

  “By saying I’m sorry.”

  “How’d you scare her away, jackass?”

  “Turns out I didn’t.” No, I’ve put the pieces together the past couple days, and I realized it was her song.

  Not me.

  She would’ve kissed me.

  She has kissed me.

  This attraction isn’t one-sided.

  “Why’d you think you did?” Cooper asks.

  “More shoveling, less gabbing,” Davis calls.

  Cooper picks up a scoopful, still eyeing me.

  “She’s fucking amazing,” I mutter.

  “Duh. Waverly doesn’t make friends with people who aren’t.”

  I eye the baseball player.

  He grins, clearly not at all ashamed of his own ego lingering in that statement. I’m awesome too because Waverly hangs out with me.

  But then he goes serious. “You like her.”

  “I liked her before I ever met her. We started texting when she moved into my pool house.”

  Cooper snorts.

  Helpful. “What?”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I stop shoveling and stare at him. “You’re welcome?”

  “Dude. Do you know how many times Waverly’s like, ‘Oh, Aspen’s texting with Cash again’? Like every day. You think the rest of us don’t know?”

  Not just staring anymore. Now, I’m gaping.

  He levels me with another be fucking for real look. “Why do you think we invited her to Beck’s party?”

  “Quit telling him all of our secrets, dumbass,” Davis says.

  “You knew,” I say to Cooper.

  “You’re not exactly subtle, my dude.”

  I look back at the cabin.

  Is Waverly having the same conversation with Aspen?

  “More shoveling,” Davis says.

 

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