And hungry.
I wrap the towel tighter, though it’s clinging more than covering, and step onto the wet tile, keeping my chin high like I haven’t just lost every ounce of dignity I ever had.
I don’t look at him as I pass. But my robe is on the hook behind him.
Of course it is.
“Move,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
He doesn't. Just watches me with those hungry eyes.
“I said move, Callum.”
“You're the one who decided to put on a show.”
“It wasn't a show, you asshole! You barged in!”
“And you could've stayed in the water.”
We're close now. Too close. Me in just a towel, water still dripping from my hair down my shoulders. Him still shirtless, all hard muscle and inked skin.
“Move,” I say again.
He does. Finally. Steps aside just enough for me to reach around him for the robe.
I grab it, trying to ignore how his eyes track every movement, and the way my hands shake as I wrap it around myself over the towel.
“You should learn to knock,” I say, tying the robe's belt with fingers that won't quite cooperate. “The lock doesn’t work.”
The lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then die completely. Darkness swallows the room.
“Shit,” Callum groans.
“What just happened?”
“Storm must’ve knocked out the main power. I’ll go fire up the generator.” He glances at me with that maddening smirk. “You stay warm, darlin’. Let me handle things. I’ll take care of everything… and maybe then, you can return the favor.”
“Excuse me?” I snap. “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs you to handle things.And I’m definitely not about to owe you any favors.”
The secondI’m dressed and we step outside, I regret everything.
Snow drives sideways into my face, stinging my cheeks. I can barely see three feet in front of me. We trudge into the storm. The snow is deeper than I expected, past my knees. My legs are already burning and we've only gone twenty feet.
Callum glances back at me. I glare at him through the snow and keep moving.
The shed is around the side of the cabin, barely visible through the whiteout. Callum has to dig out the bottom of the door with his hands.
Finally, he gets the door open.
The shed is small and cramped, barely big enough for both of us.
“Hold this.” He hands me his flashlight. “Keep it steady on the generator.”
I do, watching as he crouches down and starts working. His hands move with confidence, checking connections, adjusting something I can't see.
Then the generator roars to life.
“Come on.” Callum pushes to his feet. “Let's get back inside.”
