A.C. Arthur - Winter Kisses

He looked up at her then with a bleak expression.

“My name's Monica.”

There was that half smile again as he shook his head. “Yes, I know. And, Monica, you might want to know that we've both been duped.”

“What are you talking about now?” she asked with the last little bit of patience she had. How could this be happening to her? She was supposed to be meeting with clients, securing a showing at her gallery. How did she end up here with him?

“Renny just emailed me back.”

“And what was his response?”

“I'll read it to you verbatim so you don't think I'm lying. ‘Have a great time you two, LOL!'”

“What does that mean?” she asked, then realized she'd been asking this sort of question consistently for the past few minutes. Shaking her head she rephrased. “I don't understand what he's trying to say.”

“He's admitting that they set us up.”

She didn't even speak this time, just shook her head negatively.

“My guess is your sisters and my family got together and decided that putting us up in this cabin together would be a good idea.”

“No,” she whispered. “Not a good idea.”

Alex shrugged, shutting down his computer. “I'm not saying I agree with them, but I'm not in the habit of whining about my conditions, either.”

“I am not whining,” she said with indignation.

Pushing the laptop into its case he chuckled. “Say that again.”

“Forget this. I don't have to say anything” was her retort as she reached for her coat she'd finally taken off and thrown over the arm of one of the recliners.

She was in the hallway reaching for her bags when she heard his voice again.

“I already told you there are no other rooms and there's a blizzard out there. Are you really going to let stubborn pride get the best of you? I thought you were smarter than that.”

With bag in hand and purse pushed onto her shoulder, Monica cast him a frosty glare. “I don't really care what you think about me, Mr. Bennett. Now, I'm leaving. I'll find someplace to stay for the night, then I'm heading back to New York in the morning.”

She didn't wait for his response, didn't stay to see if he'd give her that half smile, half smirk again or if he'd physically try to stop her. Monica simply went to the door and jerked it open, feeling the slap of cold against her face as she did. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into what he'd termed a blizzard and sighed. He was right—it was a blizzard. She could barely see two steps ahead let alone up the road to the building where the front desk was. Snow smacked into her face as she lifted her legs to take another step.

In the relatively short amount of time she'd been inside the cabin the snow had begun to pile up. There was at least a couple of inches sticking already and she attributed that to the mountainous region. She wasn't used to seeing this type of accumulation this quickly in the city. That didn't matter right about now. What mattered was getting away from Alex Bennett and finding out just what part her sisters had played in this scheme. With her next indignant step, Monica was fuming and ready to curse at the next person who happened to walk by. Instead the four-inch heel of her expensive leather boots twisted beneath her and a strangled yelp escaped her as her body and her bags plunged into the white abyss.

He'd stood in the door watching her walk away, watching the anger and pride carry her through the beginnings of a nasty snowstorm in bitterly cold temperatures. She didn't want to believe what he'd told her about there being no more rooms left—he shouldn't care. She'd silently rejected the thought that her sisters had set her up—again, it wasn't his concern. She didn't matter.

Until she fell.

Cursing, Alex darted out into the snow, not even aware that he had no coat on. She hadn't gotten that far so he reached her in no time. By then she was already struggling to stand on her own. Grabbing her beneath the knees and around the back, he lifted her up.

“Put me down. I can walk,” she protested, squirming in his arms.

“Yeah, I saw how well you were managing that,” he replied. Deciding to ignore the words coming out of her mouth now, Alex headed straight for the cabin. He deposited the seething, stubborn woman on the couch then turned back to go outside and get her bags.

When he returned she was standing right beside the door, hands on her hips, snow dripping from her eyelashes and the tip of her nose. She was angry and looked ready to spit fire at him when he took a step closer, cupping a hand over her mouth.

“You don't have to like it, but there are no other rooms in this resort. There's a storm just kicking up outside and it's freezing out there. I'm going to add some wood to this fire and see what we have in the kitchen because I'm starving. If you want to continue with this brilliant temper tantrum of yours, go right ahead. But I'll tell you right now, it's not going to change anything. I would take you for a smarter woman than to try and change the unchangeable.”

After snatching his hand away from her mouth, Alex walked away, missing the choice words she mumbled, and headed straight to the kitchen.

“I don't eat mayonnaise,” she said when she entered the kitchen.

He didn't look up. “Fine.”

She sighed. Eating crow was not an attribute listed on her résumé, either. Still, Monica knew futile actions when she saw them. She was stuck in this cabin, in the middle of a storm, with him. There was no way around it and rebelling against it was nothing short of stupid. He was right about that. And she was big enough to admit it.

“Thanks for coming out to get me,” she said, moving to one of the cabinets above the sink, looking to see what was there. Two cabinets away she found bags of potato chips and took the barbecue and plain ones down.

“No problem,” he said. “There are some bowls in that cabinet next to the refrigerator.”

She moved in that direction, found the bowls and dumped both bags of chips into them. “These cabins don't usually come with fully stocked kitchens, do they?”

He was fixing sandwiches—ham-and-cheese from what she could see. The only condiment he had on the marble island counter was mayonnaise. So she decided to check in the refrigerator for something else. Or rather the low rumbling of her stomach decided it was time for her to suck it up and eat something.

“I think we can thank our meddling family members for the food, as well. There's enough in here to feed us for a week,” he said as simply as if he were giving her the time of day.

After she found the mustard she moved to the counter to stand next to him. Not too close, but close enough. He pushed the tray with sandwiches on it toward her and she lifted the bread off one to squirt mustard on it.

He moved away from her then and for a minute Monica thought it was because she'd finally, totally turned him off. Not that she should care either way. The refrigerator door opened again and when she looked up Alex had two sodas stuck in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Bring the chips. We can eat in front of the fire,” he said, taking the tray of sandwiches.

She followed without a word.

Monica thought they'd sit on the couch so she was surprised when Alex plopped down right on the carpeted floor in front of the fire and began tearing off paper towels. Shrugging, she again followed his lead, crossing her legs and sitting across from him. She even managed a small smile when he handed her a paper towel. She put the bowls next to the tray of sandwiches and accepted it.

“You want to bless our food?” he asked and sounded more sincere than she'd ever heard him before.

Momentarily speechless, she shook her head and he instantly began speaking a prayer. Impressed was an understatement.