Page 14 of All Snowed Gin

Nonetheless, she could have slept there. Instead, she wound up next to me. Holy shit. Rose isn’t the first beautiful stranger I’ve shared a bed with, but she might be the first that I’ve had to interact with the next morning in a more than quick, generic, “this was fun” kind of way. She might also be the first one I didn’t fuck.

None of that answers the gigantic question running through my head though. Why the fuck is she cooking breakfast?

Throwing off the covers, I leap out of the bed, fueled by nothing but an irrational need for an answer. Who wakes up in a stranger’s bed and then makes themselves at home enough to rummage through a kitchen and make a meal? Rose Adler, apparently.

“What the…”

I cut myself off as I round the corner, stopping dead in my tracks. Oblivious to my entrance is Rose, standing at the stove, Gram’s cast-iron skillet in front of her, eggs crackling away. She’s humming some Christmas tune I recognize but can’t name, dancing in place as she pushes the eggs around in the oil. I can see she’s still favoring her one ankle, but she’s moving much better than she did last night.

Her ass looks good enough to take a bite out of, barely concealed by skimpy little shorts, her muscular legs doing a damn good job at trying to steal the show. I wonder why I didn’t notice them last night—oh wait, because her boobs were on display, that’s right. My dick twitches thinking about them again, the rest of my body wanting to slide up behind her, pull her close, and kiss her neck.

No, stop. Do not think those thoughts about the woman you are snowed in with. Not cool…

I shake my head, trying to focus on the matter at hand—Rose has taken over my kitchen. And is likely wasting the limited food supply that we have. Sure, I ordered extra since I didn’t want to have to deal with another grocery order until after the New Year, but it wasn’t enough for two people for that amount of time.

“Hi!” Rose greets, her smile bright as she turns toward me.

That’s when I see it. The tie-dyed purple apron with a picture of the Cheshire Cat from Lewis Carroll’s novel, surrounded by a strange, almost psychedelic font quoting the feline himself—Imagination is the only weapon in the war with reality. Gram’s favorite apron.

Forget an irrational need for an answer. I’m past that. The sight of her in that apron pushes me over another edge. And not the amorous one I was teeter-tottering with a second ago. No, this one is something else. This makes me see red.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, teeth gritted.

“Get what?”

“That apron.”

“Oh, it was hanging in the pantry. It’s adorable. I couldn’t resist. I love Alice in Wonderland.”

The happiness in her voice grates on me. It shouldn’t, but it does. I don’t understand how she can be this happy. Or how she can act like she lives here.

“Take it off,” I growl, unable to control myself.

“Ummm, that’s a weird request for first thing in the morning, of a woman you barely know, but…I guess—”

“Now!”

“Fine!” she sasses, furrowing her brows at me. She doesn’t question any more, but slips the apron off, handing it to me. I yank it out of her hands, causing her to jump backward from my aggression. Still, she carries on. “Well, breakfast is almost ready. I was going to bring it to you in bed, but since you’re up, I guess I could set the table. If you tell me where it is.”

“No. And what do you think you’re doing cooking?”

“What do you mean what do I think I’m doing? I’m cooking! I was up and hungry and you made dinner last night, so I thought I’d be nice and return the favor. I don’t expect to be waited on hand and foot while I’m here. I’ll contribute.”

“You’re wasting food.”

“I am not,” she scoffs.

One hand on her jutted-out hip, she looks at me like I’m insane. Or I need to go back to bed. Which might not be a bad idea at the rate we’re going this morning.

“You are,” I counter, unable to think of anything else. I have no proof, but somehow I just know.

“Four eggs, four slices of toast, and an avocado isn’t too much food. Thank you.”

Damn it, she has a point.

“We’re snowed in, so what we have is what we have. We have to make the most of it.”

“I am aware. I was poking around earlier and saw that you have all the things to make my mama’s ham and corn chowder, so I was thinking that I could make that for dinner tonight. It makes a bunch, so we’d have at least a couple of lunches or dinners from it. If you don’t mind leftovers.”