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“Who are you?” I grumble.
“What do you mean who I am?” she snaps. “Who are you?” She shakes the fire poker above her shoulder, coming dangerously close to smacking it into the doorframe. “I’m a paying guest—”
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
The woman pulls down the edge of her t-shirt with one hand, inevitably drawing my eyes to her legs again. Her upper thighs are hardly covered. I can’t stop glancing at them. I blame my exhaustion for the inappropriate images of parting those squeezed-together thighs with a growled whisper and two fingers. Of making her moan—
Fuck me. I don’t even know this woman who’s obviously been sleeping in my bed. How can I be this turned on by her?
“I didn’t mean—never mind. I’m Jake. Jake Blair. This is my cabin.”
“But Kristi—”
“Is my sister.”
“Your sister?”
Kristi promised to keep this particular weekend free of guests for me. I spoke to her less than twenty-four hours ago about snow removal. Which means this is no accident. “Goddammit, Kristi,” I mutter under my breath. She didn’t give me shit about not coming home because she appointed herself matchmaker this year. “Look, you can’t stay here.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have to go.”
The woman lets out a huffy laugh. Though the poker is no longer over her shoulder, she hasn’t let it go as she folds her arms across her chest. Giving those bountiful tits exposure I’m certain she doesn’t mean to. Fuck. “And just where am I supposed to go? I paid to be here.”
“I’ll get you a full refund.”
“I don’t want a refund.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I want the Christmas I signed up for. Besides, my ride doesn’t come back until Christmas Day.”
“I’ll take you into town.” A yawn assaults me, making it impossible to deny how exhausted I am. “In the morning.”
“That’s it then?”
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, awakening the lingering aches in an effort to keep me from dropping dead on my feet. I’ve been traveling all day. I need sleep in the worst way. I glance at the couch, wondering if it sleeps as stiff as it looks. Hell, at this point, a snowbank looks comfortable. “You sure as hell don’t want to spend Christmas with me, lady.”
“It’s Mallory,” she snaps.
“I’ll take the couch.” I pretend not to care that the beautiful name is now committed to memory. I can’t allow my curiosity to get the better of me. Not when it comes to the sexy stranger in my cabin. One who will be gone in the morning and far away from the matchmaking attempts of my meddling sister.
“How chivalrous of you considering I was already sleeping in your bed.”
“It’s my—”
She slams the door before I can finish my sentence. I stand, staring at the door so long my legs nearly give out. Fuck, I’m not built for being awake this many hours in a row anymore. It’s another hint that I need to give up the hectic life I’ve been living and find something more stable.
I’m too tired to unplug the Christmas tree, and instead drift off to sleep cursing its twinkling lights.
3
MALLORY
My dreams of a peaceful night sleep were shattered when the gruff stranger burst into my cabin last night. I thought someone broke in. That I was in imminent danger from either a crazy axe murderer or a bear. Neither scenario offered a happy ending.
Then I saw him.
The rugged mountain man in the glow of Christmas lights.
If he had any idea how shaky my grip was on that fireplace poker, he’d probably laugh. I wasn’t afraid. Oh no. I was … nervous. The instant I laid eyes on the sexy albeit grumpy man, my lady bits warmed right to life, as if to announce the Ice Age is over. That ravaging fantasy roared to life before my eyes.
