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Slipping from the covers, I make it a quick change, and throw my clothes off before redressing even warmer. I add leggings beneath my sweatpants, and put on a pair of thick boot socks before shoving my feet into my slippers again. Then I put on a fleece jacket beneath my sweatshirt, and zip it all the way up my neck. Lastly, I pull my hair from its bun and put on my knit hat with a big pompom on top.
Looking in the mirror, I smile. I love this freaking hat.
Digging out my gloves from my suitcase, I put them on, and blow hot air into my fists, trying to warm them up.
I guess I’m going to have to entertain myself today.
Grabbing a few blankets from the bed, I drag them out into the living room and throw them on the couch. Walking over to the bookshelves along the wall, I run my gloved fingers across the spines of the books. There are both older and newer romance novels, mysteries, fiction, and some good old classic literature.
Gold script against a black spine catches my eye over all the other books, and I pull it from the shelf.
Oooh, damn. It’s a matte finished cover with glossy gold handcuffs, and nothing else.Under Him. The title gleams back at me and I flip the book over, reading the blurb, a small smile playing on my lips.
Settling into the couch, I wrap myself in blankets, and open to the first page. The gloves make it a little harder, but it’s still manageable.
Page after page, I read, and I can’t get enough. This book is freaking hot. I can’t believe Dottie has this on her shelf–that saucy little minx. I’m getting hot just reading this. Who needs heat when you have this book?
I need wine with this. Throwing the blankets off, I head to the kitchen and open a bottle. Carrying it, a glass, and the package of Oreos back with me, I tuck my feet under me and pour myself a hefty glass of pinot.
Taking a few big sips, I open the book back up and bite my lip. This guy is sexy as hell. He’s tall, dark, mysterious, and knows how to rock a woman’s world. I wish I had a man who cared about me as much as this guy. The only difference being I don’t need constant protection. I’m not a damsel in distress, and I never have been.
My dad raised me to be strong, fierce, and independent. I always knew I could count on him, but he also made me stand on my own two feet and tackle every mountain I faced. He was there only if I really, truly needed him.
I only need myself now. I know that.
But it would be nice to have someone there to catch me in case I failed. And I’ve been failing this year. More than I ever have in my entire life, combined.
But still I rise. I don’t give up, and I won’t give up.
Shaking my head, I take a few more gulps of wine and shove a cookie in my mouth. I just want to forget for a while that it’s just me. Opening the book again, I decide it’s safer to be lost in the life of this rich millionaire playboy who finally found the right woman for him.
Fiction is always better than reality.
As the minutes turn to hours, I lose myself in the words before me as I finish off the bottle of wine and the package of cookies.
I’m not complaining that I’m literally forced to eat cookies to survive, but I want real food. I want a big, juicy cheeseburger with bacon and avocado, and a huge side of fries–curly fries. Mmm.
Standing, I walk over to the window, and see that the snow is still steadily falling. What the fuck?! I’m never going to get food!
Walking around the house, I search for supplies. I find candles in the spare bedroom closet, and matches in a kitchen drawer. Setting them up on the living room table, I look around for a flashlight, but can’t find one.
Ugh! Doesn’t everyone who lives in the middle of the freaking woods have a flashlight?
Okay, relax. I’ll be fine. I have candles and wine. Going back to the cabinet where Ally stashed me a few bottles, I’m happy to see she still believes me to be a wino. Which, if I’m being honest, I am. But so is she.
Grabbing the last two bottles, I bring them into the living room, and set them on the table with the candles. Being drunk will at least help me to sleep through the cold.
Chapter 8
Twirling around the living room, I watch as the flames flicker and cast shadows around the room. Humming my favorite song, I sway to the imaginary beat, feeling the warmth of the wine running through my veins.
It’s dark out now, and it’s still snowing, but I don’t even care anymore. Let it fall, I say! Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
But then a loud thumping sound outside makes me scream, and I freeze where I stand.
What the hell was that?!
Oh my God.
