I sigh. This is so not like me. I’m a cutthroat lawyer, not the kind of woman who swoons over a man after touching his big tree. The literal kind, I mean.
I groan. Why am I thinking about this man’s wood now? I need to get a grip, the sooner the better. My tree was delivered hours ago, and I’m not going out again, so I decide to change into my Christmas pajamas and open a bottle of wine. Then I grab a plate of appetizers from the fridge that I bought at a local shop. Outside, dark clouds are drifting closer, but I don’t care. This cabin features a fireplace, stunning mountain views, andreliable Wi-Fi, allowing me to blast music from my phone. Not so loud that I’ll get a noise complaint, but loud enough to dance my emotions away.
When my favorite song comes on, I dance to the kitchen drawer and grab a ladle. It’s the perfect make-believe microphone. I laugh as I imagine my colleagues seeing me like this. At work and in court, I’m always composed. Not a hair out of place. Stern look. Appropriate clothes in boring colors.
But they’re not here, so who cares?
The refrain comes on, and I crank up the volume. I almost scream the lyrics, and hell, if it doesn’t feel freeing and amazing.
That is, until a loud bang on the door scares the shit out of me. I freeze, ladle in hand. Is the owner of these cabins angry about my dance party? Damn.
I straighten my hair and head to the front door, readying my flashiest smile and most innocent excuse, but when I open the door, I’m stunned. Instead of a smile, my jaw drops to the floor. Wearing my fluffy bunny slippers was the biggest mistake of the day. Scratch that, of the decade.
Because standing before me, looking even better than he did this afternoon, is Thorne.
I swallow, trying to find my sanity back, and tilt my head up high.
“Well, if it isn’t the thorn of my eye,” I finally manage to say.
The corner of his mouth quirks, but he doesn’t quite smile. “Are you always this funny?”
“So you think I’m funny, huh? Thanks.”
He runs a hand through his thick beard. “Can I come in?”
“Not until you tell me how the hell you found me,” I say.
“I accidentally overheard you telling Earl where you were staying. Like I said before, I’m not going to harass you.”
I look him up and down. To be honest, the only dangerous thing about Thorne is how criminally good-looking he is. I’msure it won’t hurt to let him come inside. Inside this cabin, I mean.
“Fine, come in,” I say.
He steps into my cabin, which feels awfully small right now. His eyebrow shoots up when he looks at the tree that was delivered here earlier. “Nice fit.”
“Right?”
We both stare at the fresh pine, both too stubborn to give in, both realizing all too well that I’m being ridiculous. I just don’t want to admit defeat, but the truth is, I didn’t take any measurements before buying this tree. Now I’m stuck with one that blocks half the seating area and reaches all the way to the ceiling. So far, the top is bent.
“You measured your space before buying a seven-foot tree, right?” Thorne asks, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“Of course I did,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” He crosses his arms. “So this is exactly what you wanted? A tree that’s essentially furniture.”
I shrug. “Yeah. It’s cozy.”
“It’s a fire hazard.”
Damn it, he’s right. The bent top is nearly touching one of the cabin’s rustic light fixtures.
“Fine. Maybe it’s a fire hazard and slightly too big,” I admit.
“Slightly.”
“Don’t gloat. It’s unattractive.”
“Is it though?” he asks with a smirk.
