I hold my phone in his face. “See? Iamin the right place.”
He studies my phone, his jaw tightening as he reads the listing. “I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but you’ve been scammed.”
“What? No. You’re wrong,” I protest through chattering teeth, clinging to hope.
Determined to prove I’m right, I paste the address into my map app again, only for it to show that I’m twenty feet from my destination. Still in denial, I recheck my messages but only see the one I just sent, joining the others that remain unopened.
“Unless there’s some other one-bedroom cabin in this area identical to this one—which I know there isn’t—it’s obvious you’ve been conned,” the cowboy says, his voice devoid of sympathy.
I roll my eyes. “I heard you the first time.”
The truth is a bitter pill to swallow. I got scammed and fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I didn’t think twice about sending the full payment outside the app, and when the supposed owners went silent, I assumed they were busy. In hindsight, I realize how foolish I was, and now I’m left paying the price, while standing in a winterscape with a stranger, freezing in a dress that offers no defense against the biting wind.
I’m pulled from my wallowing when our phones go off simultaneously. I glance down at mine to see another weather advisory.
Winter Storm Warning: Blizzard conditions expected in Pine Haven and surrounding areas. Travel is not advised. Seek shelter immediately.
What am I going to do now?
I pride myself on finding the bright side in any situation, no matter how bad things might seem. Like the time I drained my savings to launch my podcast and finished the first season with only fifty followers. I still celebrated each one, confident that small beginnings often lead to big results. And they did when I ended season two with a hundred thousand followers. Or when I upgraded to a nicer apartment with a skyline view after Mark and I broke up.
Still, it’s hard to see the silver lining when I’m shivering on a mountain road, miles away from civilization, dealing with a cowboy who probably has the Grinch on speed dial.
His brows tighten as he scrolls on his phone. “A blizzard’s rolling in and fast. There’s no way you’re getting down the mountain in that thing before it hits.” He nods at the convertible in his driveway.
“That’s just peachy,” I mutter, his sour mood rubbing off on me.
“You can stay on my couch tonight,” he says, gritting out the words. “But you’re out first thing in the morning.”
“How thoughtful. I’ll be sure to write you a five-star review for your generosity,” I deadpan.
“Beggers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he counters. “If my couch isn’t up to your standards, you can always bunk with the horses in the barn—perfect if you like frostbite, scratchy bedding, and mice that might mistake your toes for a midnight snack.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you always this welcoming?”
He shrugs. “Most people know better than to show up at my place uninvited. Now, are you staying or not?”
I take a step back, keeping my eyes locked on him. “How can I be sure you’re not a killer who’s lured me here under false pretenses?”
Maybe his whole spiel about not wanting visitors is a ruse, and he planned this all along, using the unpredictable weather to trap me here. Although he seems more unnerved by my presence than I am by his.
He raises a brow. “Funny that you’re accusing me of murder when you’re the one sneaking around like you’re casing the place. How do I know you’re not here planning to rob me in my sleep?”
I shiver as a breeze passes, drawing my arms to my chest for warmth. I catch a flicker of worry in the stranger’s eyes that disappears in an instant.
“If I were stealing, I’d hit a city penthouse, not your remote cabin in the woods during a blizzard without an escape route,” I say, trying to keep my teeth from rattling, determined not to show this man any weakness. “Besides, if you’re so harmless, how come you haven’t told me your name?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
“Shep.”
I extend my hand with a smile. “I’m Noelle. And yes, the reason is as cliché as it sounds. My mom loves Christmas and wanted holiday magic year-round. Funny enough, it’s my favorite holiday too, so I can’t complain.” There I go oversharing with a stranger again.
He looks at my hand but doesn’t make a move to shake it. “Cute. You always this chatty with people you’ve just met?”
This man is insufferable. I’m doing my best to be friendly and make our situation less awkward, and all I get in return are clipped answers and a deadpan stare.
