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I hand her one more pile and wait as she secures them. “Last one for now. I'm gonna go grab more.”
“Since I unloaded this one alone, you can do that one, then.”
I arch a brow in amusement. “If we're playing by those rules, then you can cook dinner since I made lunch.”
“Alright, but don't blame me if you get food poisoning.”
“Oh, c'mon. You can't be that bad.”
“I once set my oven on fire making a cauliflower pizza,” she deadpans. “So yeah, don't trust me in the kitchen because I'm never home in time to eat dinner.”
“Wait...how'd you manage that? Also, cauliflower on anything sounds disgusting.”
She looks too embarrassed to answer and spins around, marching toward the fireplace. Instead of letting her get away, I follow her.
“You left the cardboard on, didn't you?”
“Maybe.” She walks in a maze around Dasher as he relentlessly tries to get her attention.
“What'd you have the oven set to? Five hundred?” I taunt.
She drops the logs beside the others, then brushes the loose bark off her sweater. “If I tell you, no laughing.”
I withhold a smirk and cross my arms. “No promises.”
She scoffs. “You're...not wrong. I was reading something on my phone while setting the temperature, and I guess I didn't realize what I’d done until it waswaytoo late.”
Scratching a hand over my beard, I hold back laughter as I grin. “Yep, that'll do it. So no pizzas, then. Doesn't mean you're completely helpless.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Anyone can learn the basics if they try.”
“I can manage a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.”
I pat my stomach. “I do love me some cereal.”
She snorts, and I swear a faint smile touches her lips, but it quickly vanishes. “Fine, I'll help as long as you don't make me cook.”
“Deal.”
We go through the process again. Dasher closely follows her every move, and she curses when she trips over him during the final load.
“You okay?” Luckily, I catch her before she does a face-plant on the floor.
“No, I'm not.” She blows out a frustrated huff, and I quickly release her. “I don't have coffee, internet, or any type of delivery services. When I’m pissed or annoyed, I usually go for a run, and now I can't even do that!”
“Fallon...” I say carefully, hoping to pull her off the ledge.
“For all I know, you're a murderer and put up thefake listingto get me here. It's probably why you live out in the middle of fucking nowhere! Trap your victims in your big secluded mountain cabin and then slaughter them.”
“Mm-hmm...and I suppose I'm to blame for this blizzard too, right? I mean, I must've planned that. Summoned the angels above to bring us over twenty inches of snow and hurricane-level winds. I had to make sure there was no possible way for you to call for help or have access to your precious outside world. Damn, you caught me.”
“Don't deflect with a smart-ass attitude. I watch enough true crime to know how serial killers premeditate their kills.”
I chuckle, entertained by her theory. “If that were my plan, wouldn't I have killed you already instead of given you a place to sleep?”
“Some psychos enjoy playing with their prey first. Get me to trust you, and then that's when you make your lethal move.” She makes a throat-slit motion, and I crack up.
